


A Different Light

by LeeBarnes



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Bit of homophobia, Cheating, Doubt, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Louis fucks up a lot, Louis is a Daddy, M/M, Questioning, The other three only make short appearances, and he hurts a lot of people, but he works to make it better in the end, harry is a baker, i feel bad, larry stylinson - Freeform, lourry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-12 10:38:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 99,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/810642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeeBarnes/pseuds/LeeBarnes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is a twenty-two years old teacher with a tiny obsession for a mysterious baker working in a café conveniently placed between his daughter's daycare centre and the school he works at.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> Let me introduce you to my very first Larry Stylinson chaptered fic, A Different Light. The summary sucks monkey balls but I swear the story itself is way better. 
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it and I hope you'll let me know. 
> 
> Also, English is not my mother tongue and while my friend Kerry beta every chapters, mistakes might appear.

Louis was only eight years old when he decided that he wanted to play football professionally. He had been training for a little over three years by then and he knew it’d be hard work to be scouted by a junior league team but he’d never been one to refuse a challenge. He trained for hours, often neglecting both his studies and social life. He was the best player of the team by far but he always remembered to let his teammates shine too. All of the coaches and scouts he’d met over the years agreed to say he was promised to a brilliant future. He was almost there, almost at the right age to be signed. He’d led the local team to the final of championship. There was more than one scout at the game, all looking at him with contracts in their hands.

Sadly, as is often the case, life itself had other plans for Louis. All it took was a bad tackle from the opposite team’s defence. He didn’t need a medic to tell him he might have fucked his knee up. He had heard the bone crack and felt the dull pain. He didn’t need the surgeon to tell him he might never recuperate fully to know he’d never be a professional player. No recruiter hired attackers with wonky knees, not if they wanted to win competitions. He still tried to beat the odds, if only because he didn’t know what else to do. He’d never thought of a back-up plan, never thought he’d ever need one. He was back on the field within two months but he just couldn’t nail a game anymore. He barely made it through the first half before he collapsed from the pain. He stopped playing, never ever went to watch a game again. 

He wanted to stay in Doncaster after his A-Levels, find a job and help his mother with the girls. The divorce had been hard on her and he couldn’t envision leaving her alone. She told him to go to University and try his hand at a few things to decide what he wanted out of life now that football was no longer an option. He signed up for different classes at Manchester University and tried to find new interests that could lead to a long-term job but he never did. He got into helping with coaching kids somehow and found that he enjoyed teaching his sport almost as much as he had enjoyed playing it. He loved being around the kids too, even when they broke his heart by playing like shit. He decided that he could do it for a living, he could teach sports to kids.  

He met Haley around the same time he decided to be a teacher. He was high on life and she was pretty and they were both quite drunk too. It was never supposed to be more than a one-night stand and they both knew it when they went back to her place but they agreed to be friends, if only to put their minds at peace with what had happened between them. Louis remembered the night as awkward at best and he wouldn’t have repeated the experience if it wasn’t for the stress produced by too many finals on a same week. They weren’t a couple by any means. Relationships weren’t Louis’ forte so he tried to stay out of them. No girl had ever held his interest long enough to be called a girlfriend anyway. He didn’t plan on Haley to be more than a friend with whom he had sex sometimes and she didn’t seem to mind the description either.

But then she got pregnant with his kid and the timing was all wrong for so many reasons but neither of them could envision terminating the pregnancy. They talked it through, weighed up their options and eventually decided to raise the baby together. But they weren’t going to start a relationship. They weren’t going to pretend their child was created out of love when it was known fact that there had never been love between them. Louis was there for Haley regardless of the status of their relationship. He worked more hours at the club and took on a second job so they could move into a bigger apartment. He went to every check-up with her, cried when they got to hear their baby’s heartbeat for the first time and painted the room purple when they learned they were having a girl. He was there with her when she was giving birth too, holding her hand and whispering words of encouragement. They looked and acted like a couple, so much that they became one within a year of raising Emma.

The transition was so natural that Louis managed to convince himself that he might have fallen in love with Haley after all. They had been through a lot together and they were going to go through so much more for the rest of their life. He couldn’t find a reason to avoid a relationship with her anymore. Haley went along with it. She seemed happy with it too. Their friends didn’t comment on the change, which didn’t mean they weren’t judging it. Louis knew his friends were questioning his newfound feelings but they wanted him happy and he was happy. He had a beautiful daughter whom he loved with all of his heart and he had a job waiting for him at the end of his PGCE.

  But life liked to play games with Louis and shook things up whenever he started believing he could have it all. The blow had come in the form of one Harry Styles. He was both the best and worst thing to ever happen to Louis. And he was the reason why Louis was here today, sitting in an empty apartment to think about all of those moments that could be worthy of a shitty movie with Katherine Heigl if the end was different.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 1, I hope it'll make you want to tune in next Monday for chapter 2!  
> Let me know :)

Louis wakes up to a weight on his chest, much like he’s done almost every morning of the last six months. He doesn’t need to open his eyes to know the sudden pressure comes from his daughter snuggling on top of him. He wraps his arms around her tiny figure, breathing her in with a smile. He just loves her baby smell so much. He wishes he could bottle it up and keep it forever. He wishes he could stop time and stop her from growing up. But he’ll wait for her to be potty trained first because he doesn’t fancy the idea of changing nappies forever, no matter how much he loves the kid. He feels Emma’s breath slowing down, hinting that she might be falling asleep, so he cracks an eye open to look at the alarm clock on the bedside table. It flashes a bright red six and two five. He sets Emma on Haley’s side of the mattress before rolling out of bed to start the day.

He hears the water running in the bathroom, letting him know Haley is still in the shower, so he goes straight to the kitchen. He fills the kettle with water and turns it on before looking through the cupboards for Emma’s cereals and Haley’s energy snacks. He’d try to cook them a proper breakfast if he wasn’t afraid to set the house on fire so early in the morning. He isn’t as bad a cook as his mother and girlfriend claim he is but he has a tendency of burning food to the point where it just isn’t eatable anymore. He makes tasty pasta, though, and Emma loves his special L. Tomlinson’s rice, which is basically just rice with peas, cheese and sweetcorn. He used to live off of it and overcooked pasta before moving in with Haley so he had time to perfect the recipe. He gets Haley’s travel mug off of the drying rack, knowing she’ll have to hurry out of the door again. Things have been hectic at the office these last couple of weeks and they haven’t gotten to spend much time together, which explains their impromptu weekend out of town. Louis can never remember where they’re going but his girlfriend always has it all worked out already so he doesn’t worry. They are complete opposites but they work well together. They’re a perfect fit, really. The only thing missing to turn their relationship into a fairytale is love. Louis knows it and Haley knows it as well but they care about each other just as much as they care about their daughter and it is not perfect but it is enough for them because love doesn’t last anyway. It burns out and all that’s left behind is emptiness and unfixable messes. They’re better off without love, Louis thinks. 

He’s searching the cupboards for a clean mug when Haley walks into the kitchen. Her hair is still damp and droplets of water splash on Louis’ skin as she leans against him for a kiss. They whispered their good mornings against each other’s lips but they don’t linger. They don’t talk in the mornings and, to be fair, they don’t really talk in the evenings either. They communicate whenever they have to but they don’t force conversations. The silence between them is comfortable enough that they never feel the need to fill it with mindless chitchats. They set the table together, sharing shy smiles and tentative touches. Louis pours tea in both their mugs while Haley puts a couple of snacks in her purse. They kiss again, a very chaste kiss, and then Haley is out of the door. Louis contemplates going for a shower but a glance at the clock on the microwave lets him know that he doesn’t have time for it.

He tiptoes into his bedroom to get his clothes, careful to not wake Emma up just yet. He loves his daughter to pieces but she’s a handful and requires her parents’ full attention when she’s awake. Jay never misses an occasion to tell Louis he was the same at her age, which kind of worries him. He might not have many regrets in life but it doesn’t mean he wants his daughter to follow his steps and he’d hate to be a grandfather by the age of forty. He heads to the bathroom to change. He tries to avoid his reflection in the full-length mirror. He looks almost as old as he feels and he hates it. He turns on the lights of the corridor, opening the door of his bedroom that little bit wider, and goes to grab Emma’s outfit from behind her bedroom’s door. He cringes at the sight of the yellow sweatshirt and baby pink jeans, wondering why, in the name of good fashion, he would let a two year old pick her own clothes.

He walks back into his bedroom to find Emma rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. He sits next to her, drawing random patterns on her skin until she finally looks up at him with these big blue eyes that match his. It’s unsettling how much she looks like him now. She even has the damn crinkles by her eyes when she laughs too hard. Emma crawls onto his lap and wraps her little arms around his neck to snuggle her face deeper into his chest. She’s always cuddly in the mornings and Louis always lets her because he knows it’s not going to last. He kisses her blonde hair with a smile. He gets her dressed in record time and sets her at the table with a couple of toast before pouring chocolate milk over her cereal. Emma rambles about one thing or another, Louis isn’t sure she actually makes sense half the time but he loves listening to her. He gives inputs when he feels like she’s asking a question but she’s always so quick at changing subject before he’s even done with his sentence that he doesn’t know why he bothers sometimes. But he’s amazed by how easy words come to her. Haley and he have always made sure to use as little baby talk as they could when talking to Emma because they never really understood why they should call a cow anything other than a cow. It’s proving to be effective when the little girl can hold a conversation better than Louis’ best friend after a couple of beers. They finish their breakfast without any accident, which Louis is thankful for because he really is in no mood to deal with the drama that comes with changing Emma out of the clothes she chose the night before.

“Are we all ready to go, Bugss?” Louis asks once they have brushed their teeth and put on their jackets. Emma checks her backpack one last time, making sure she’s not forgetting her favourite fluffy toy, and nods at her father. Louis arranges her furry hat so it’ll cover her ears before scooting her up to carry her to the car. He turns the radio on, barely containing his groan when Disney songs blare through the car’s speakers. Emma doesn’t remember half of the lyrics but she tries to sing along regardless, humming the notes and laughing at herself. Louis has always loved music, dreamt to be a singer himself when he wasn’t so busy playing football, so he’s happy to see Emma get into the songs, into singing them with her not-so-perfect small voice, but he’ll be even happier when she’ll start sharing his love for good music.

 

Louis walks into the café, as he does every morning after he has dropped Emma off at day care. He doesn’t know how it started, how the café got included in his daily routine, but he knows he can’t go a day without these delicious pastries anymore. He even goes as far as stocking them in boxes for when he doesn’t have time to swing by. He likes the place, too. It is quite small with only half a dozen of tables scattered around the room and the beige paint on the walls definitely doesn’t help give it depth but it’s nice and warm and welcoming. The café is never empty, almost always full even, but the staff still knows the regular customers by name and Louis thinks it might be why so many people come back, why he comes back. It is different from Starbucks, Costa and other Café Nero. The staffs are more of a family than co-workers and they welcome everyone with open arms.

Louis steps in with a smile, ready to play along with Jade’s disconcerting flirting while waiting for his tea to infuse, but Jade’s not here today. Actually, no one’s here it seems and Louis frowns because that is so unusual. He walks closer in anyway, nodding to a couple of customers he’s seen a few times before, and then he hears a chant of Happy Birthday erupt from the kitchen. He laughs quietly as he tries to peer in through the slightly open doors, curious to know who’s being publicly humiliated by their co-workers but he can’t see anything other than a mop of curly brown hair in the middle of the crowd. He decides to have a look at the pastries while he waits for Jade to come back, pondering whether to go with his usual cupcake or try another treat for once. He’s salivating at the sight of donuts when his phone starts vibrating against his leg. He struggles to get it out of his pocket and picks up without even looking at the caller ID. It can only be one of three people anyway.

“Manchester’s sperm bank, you spank them, we bank them. How can I help you?” Louis answers with a smirk before realizing that it could be his mum on the other end. She might be used to his antics by now but he still feels bad when he forces his weirdness on her and he wonders how he’d feel if Emma turned out to be a sassy little shit like her father.

“How may I help you?”

Louis releases a sigh of relief as his best friend’s voice rings through his ear. He’d promise himself to look at the caller ID next time but he knows he’ll forget about it by the next phone call so it’s no use, really. 

“You’re not allowed to correct my funny lines, Malik.”

“I’m doing it for your daughter’s sake.”

“Why are you calling me anyway?”

“Do you know what The Glades is?”

Zayn knows that Louis knows what The Glades is because Louis is the one who has been talking about it incessantly for the last few weeks. The Glades is the hot thing of the moment and Louis has been dying to go there since he heard the kids talk about it in the locker room, heard them complain about how their fake IDs were too rubbish to get them in such a selective night club. He’s tried to convince Zayn to have a manly night out there for what feels like forever but Zayn isn’t much of a party man, would rather have a couple of pints at the pub down his street than venture outside of his comfort zone. He also had finals to worry about until recently but Louis doesn’t take these as a valid excuse to not go out. He doesn’t gratify Zayn with an answer, just waits for him to elaborate.

“I’ll take it as a yes, then.” Zayn laughs and Louis rolls his eyes. “I have this mate, Liam, who was telling me how he’s managed to book the whole first floor for his best friend’s birthday tonight so I told him how my own best friend was quite literally harassing me and threatening my life to take him there just once…”

“Go to the point, Zayn.” Louis cuts him off because he knows Zayn is only giving all of the details to drive him up the wall. He hates to admit it but it works and, judging by the laughter piercing his right ear, he’d say Zayn knows it.

“He’s putting both our names on the list of guests.”

And all the annoyance Louis has been feeling towards his best friend over the last few minutes dissipates. He considers giving in to his love for banter and telling Zayn how awful a friend he is for never renting even just a table at a night club for his birthday but he ends up biting his tongue because Zayn is currently offering a free entry to one of Manchester’s most popular clubs and that’s rather very friendly of him, even more so considering clubs are not Zayn’s scene.

“You might be in the running for second place as best friend of the year.”

“Who’s first?”

“The guy who rents a club for his mate’s birthday.”

 Zayn laughs and Louis takes it as his way to agree with the statement. Zayn might not rent places for Louis but he’s still a great friend regardless. They met when Louis moved to Manchester not so many moons ago. They had close to nothing in common, Louis being an obnoxious, loud, overly happy jock and Zayn being a quiet, introvert, wounded artist. They probably wouldn’t have bothered being acquaintances if it weren’t for the fact that they had been assigned the same dorm room. They lived inside each other’s pocket that first year, it was only normal for them to become close friends. Zayn is also one of the few who have stuck by Louis’ side when Haley got pregnant and thus in spite of his hatred for the girl. He judges her fake for reasons that escape Louis, thinks she tricked Louis into a relationship and is dead set on ruining the rest of his life. But he’s always here for Louis anyway and he loves Emma too, would jump under a bus for her.

So they decide to meet at Zayn’s later in the evening because he lives closer to the town’s centre and it makes more sense. Louis hangs up just in time to see Jade coming out of the kitchen and get a glimpse of the baker’s back. He’ll admit he has an unhealthy obsession with the stranger but blames it on the fact that he knows most of the staff while he’s never gotten to see the baker’s face.

“Good morning, Louis!” Jade greets him with the usual smile and glistening eyes. She’s a pretty girl, Louis gives her this, but she’s a really bad flirt. “Sorry for the wait. Harry turns twenty today and it’s kind of a big deal, like he’s no longer our cute little baby, you know?”

Louis doesn’t know but he nods anyway because Jade will talk his ear off if he replies and he just wants to savour his cupcake right now. He does want to question her, asks who Harry is exactly because he doesn’t remember ever talking to a Harry here, but he keeps the words in, pursing his lips together as she gathers his usual order on a plastic tray.

 

Louis hates winter with a passion. He hates it because it’s too cold outside and icy, which means he can’t take the kids on the field to play football. He has to keep them inside and teach them sports he’s not interested in coaching, which is basketball this term because they have an inside court that is barely ever used. Louis hates basketball, too. He’s too tiny and curvy and his arms’ muscles are not developed enough. He misses the basket too often to call it bad luck. He makes a fool out of himself rather dramatically, purposely giving the kids something to laugh at because he’s learned that it is the best way to hide his insecurities and makes his failures hurt less. The students wouldn’t make fun of Louis anyway. They like him, he knows, because he’s young and funny and he earns their respect by treating them like equals rather than by acting like a controlling freak. He’s different from other teachers, still remembers how it feels like to be stuck at school when you’d rather be out in town, and it’s appreciated by most.

So Louis’ day doesn’t go smoothly enough for his liking so he decides to drop by the café and gets a few treats before going to pick Emma up at daycare. He’s got a box of donuts, knowing Emma loves them just as much as he loves the cupcakes. They’ll go well with the hot chocolate he’s sure his daughter will ask him to make. Emma jumps into his arm as soon as he steps in the playroom, waves goodbye to her friends and asks her father to carry her to the car because she’s just so tired. She’s quite bossy for a kid, a trait Haley swears she took from Louis. He obliges, of course, because he can never say no to his daughter and she seems to know it. He buckles her up and gets behind the wheel, turning on the radio as he knows she won’t say a word while in the car. The drive home is a short one, not many cars on the road at this hour. Emma reminds Louis that she’s too tired to walk and he carries her inside, laughing when she runs to the kitchen, her tiredness suddenly forgotten.

“Hot cocolate?”

“Chocolate.” Louis corrects her quickly. Emma repeats the word with such pride that Louis can only smile at her even if it’s still not the right pronunciation. She goes to play with her dolls while he prepares the hot chocolate and tea. He calls her in when it’s ready, gets the box of donuts on the table and laughs when she squeals at the sight of them. She climbs on her high chair and reaches for a pink donuts while Louis sits in front of her, blowing air on the steaming chocolate.  

“So what did you do today, Bugs?”

“I play with Lara.”

“What did you play with?”

“Dolls.”

They keep talking until Emma’s chocolate is cool enough to be served to her and Louis can put the mug in front of her without fearing she’ll burn her tongue. He laughs again when Emma takes a bite too big for her little mouth. He’ll take her to the café soon, he decides. She asks for another donut before she even finishes her first mouthful and Louis obliges because she’s got him wrapped around her little finger. They drink and eat in a comfortable silence that is only broken a couple of times when Emma voices her random thoughts. It’s moment like these that keeps him going when things get to be too much for him, when he starts wondering what his life would be if he wasn’t in a relationship with Haley, if he wasn’t raising Emma with her. She paddles into her bedroom next, probably looking for toys to sprawl all over the living room’s floor, and Louis rinses their mugs.

He hears the door creak open and looks at the clock with a frown because it’s become such a rare occurrence for Haley to be home before dinner but he doesn’t question it because it’d be good for Emma to spend time with her mother before her bed time and it also works in his favour. He sets the mugs down and goes to join his girls in the living room, smiling as he watches Haley crouch down to kiss Emma’s forehead in spite of the little girl’s protest. He doesn’t worry about it and neither does Haley. They both know Emma will be all over her mother when she’ll be done playing. 

“Hey you.” Haley says as she turns to him, a small smile on her lips. “Had a nice day?” She asks and don’t probe when he just shrugs one shoulder in the air. She kisses his cheek when she passes him on her way to the kitchen and he follows her to tell her about his plan to go out with Zayn.

“I’m going out with Zayn tonight.” He says, his tone of voice informing this is not up for debate. Haley is an open book to him; she’s unable to hide her emotions no matter how hard she tries. He isn’t surprised to see a fair amount of displeasure on her face. He doesn’t go out very often but when he does he tends to get a little overboard with the alcohol and suffers from the worst hangovers known to man. And they’re meant to leave for their family-bonding weekend early the next morning, too. He’ll probably want to kill himself within an hour of it and she’ll probably offer to help him.

“We need this weekend away, Louis.” Haley states with a hint of sadness in her voice. Louis isn’t sure why it matters so much, why she wants this weekend so badly. He understands why she’d need bonding time with Emma as she hasn’t been able to spend much time with her lately but he doesn’t really know what’s his part. He doesn’t know why she’d want to bond with him too because they’re not that kind of couple. They have never been and will never be. But it matters for her, this weekend away as a family, so he plays along. He walks closer, rests his arms on her shoulders and kisses the tip of her nose.

“I won’t drink enough to have a killer hangover, okay?”

“I’m having a case of déjà-vu.”

“I’m not asking for your permission, Hals.” He sighs and lets go of her. He sees the resignation in her eyes and feels a little bad for putting it there but it doesn’t stop him. They stare at each other for what feels like forever, silently asking the other to change their mind but neither of them will and they both know it. Louis is the one to break the eye-contact, mostly because he feels like he’s going to suffocate. He walks to their bedroom, gets his old duffle bag from under the bed and throws in a few clothes he judges acceptable for a night out. Haley has followed him, he can feel her eyes on his back, but he doesn’t acknowledge her. He can’t go to Zayn, his friend having classes until eight on Fridays, but he can’t stay here any longer. He’ll find somewhere to stay at while waiting for his best friend.

“Don’t expect me to nurse your hangover tomorrow.” Haley tells him once he’s done saying goodbye to Emma and walking towards the door. The words don’t sting as much as the judgement in her voice. He’s always trying to please her, always trying to play the part she’s given him and pretend to be the happy family she wants them to be. He won’t let her guilt-trip him into staying home so they can have the perfect weekend she’s imagined. He won’t let her make him feel bad for wanting one night to himself.

“You won’t have to.” He says harshly. “I’ll crash at Zayn’s.”

He’s an idiot, he knows. He knows how important this weekend is to Haley and he’s putting a dampener on it for no good reason other than he doesn’t like the way she talked to him. She makes him feel like a shitty father and boyfriend for wanting to spend a night with his friends and he can’t accept it; he can’t accept she doesn’t seem how hard he’s trying to be what he wants but he sometimes needs to just be who he is. He isn’t doing anything wrong and he doesn’t have to feel guilty so he doesn’t look back as he storms out of the house and to his car.

“You’re being an immature prick right now.”

“I’m twenty-two, Haley! I’m designed to be an immature prick!” He says, shouts maybe. He’s not sure at this point. He shouldn’t have to feel bad for acting his age when it’s not endangering anyone. 

“You’re a father, Louis!”

“Maybe I don’t want to be!”

He regrets the words as soon as they’re out of his mouth, wishes he could push them back in and never let them out ever, but he’s too angry to crumble in front of Haley. So he scrambles into his car and backs off the driveway, careful to not look at his girlfriend to not see the disappointment on her face.

 

Louis ends up at the café and Jade is sending him weird looks from her spots behind the counter. He doesn’t feel too good, the words he shouted at Haley playing in a loop inside his head. He wish he could say that he didn’t mean it, that he loves being a father too much to wish for a life without Emma, but he knows it’d be a lie. He loves Emma, she’s the best thing that has ever happened to him, but she’s also a responsibility he’s not always ready to assume. He has a good life and he loves it most of the time but it’s not the life he wanted. And he knows he should have thought about it before having unprotected sex, that he should have waited to be ready for the consequences, but he never thought it could happen to him. He wants to hit himself in the face every time he thinks about the life he will never have because the life he actually has is a good one. He has a pretty little house just outside of Manchester and a job he loves, a beautiful girlfriend and an amazing daughter. He shouldn’t want more than what he has but he does. He wants so much more.

The right thing to do would be to go home and apology, make things better by cancelling his night out with Zayn and giving in to Haley’s plans for the weekend. He wants to do the right thing, wants to set a good example for Emma, but he can’t just suck it up this time. He’s always done his best to make Haley happy and he shouldn’t be judged because he’s putting himself first for once. He won’t apology because he shouldn’t have to.

He’s pulled out of his mind by someone clearing their throat and has to blink a couple of times before his gaze focuses on the man standing in front of him. The first things he notices are the piercing green orbs staring at him. He can’t remember ever seeing such intensity in someone’s eyes. And then a lose curl falls over these bright eyes and he forgets about them to look at the untamed strands of brown hair until the boy shakes his head and uses both hands to ruffle his hair. His hands are huge, Louis notes, and really clean and it stands out because his clothes are covered with flour and bits of batter and what looks like icing. And then there is sound and it seems to be coming out of nowhere and all he can make out are words like “sorry” and “closing” and “sorry” again but he gets the main plot and nods in understatement.

“You have somewhere to go, right? Somewhere warm and stuff…” The boy asks hesitantly, eyeing the duffle bag at Louis’ feet. Louis frowns because he’s slightly offended to be confounded with a homeless man when he’s outdone himself to look decent after hours on the field. But the concern is the boy’s eyes is so genuine that it erases all thoughts of offense from Louis’ brain and he just laughs. 

“I’m not… I’m going to some birthday bash at tonight and intend to get really drunk because it’s in a nightclub and that’s the thing to do in nightclubs, you know? But I’m living out of town so I’m crashing at a friend’s, hence the bag. I’ll just go and sit on his doorstep, I guess.” Louis says, the words coming out of his mouth as he thinks them. He always rambles when he’s nervous and he’s nervous right now, which is sort of strange because he has no reason to be. He has no reason to give so many details to the stranger, could have just said he was staying at a friend’s and leave it there.

“What’s the name of the club?”

“The Glades. You’ve heard of it?”

“Yeah, my friend is dragging me there for my birthday tonight.” The boy laughs. Louis takes a minute to let the words sink in, joins the dots and realizes the boy in front of him is not just the café’s baker but also Zayn’s mate’s best friend. And he laughs too because he’s always thought such coincidences only happened in movie. But he should know everything’s possible in a life where things he’s never thought could happen to him actually happen to him.  

“My flat’s upstairs and it’s not much but it’s probably better than some corridor.” Harry says and Louis frowns upstairs, partly because he’s not sure where Harry is going with the statement and also because the moment is just sort of really weird. “You could wait there, just till your friend’s out of class.”

“You don’t even know my name.”

“Louis.” Harry replies with a pointed look at the cup in Louis’ hand and Louis looks down to see his name scribbled in black sharpie under the lid. He considers telling the boy how he could easily have given a fake name but he’s too amazed by the fact he pronounced it the right way.

“Alright then, I don’t even know your name.”

That’s a lie, of course, but he’s spent the last six months obsessing over the genius behind these sumptuous cupcakes and he doesn’t want to scare him away after just five minutes of talking to him.

“Harry.”

“How do you know I’m not a serial killer, Harry?”

“I don’t. But it’s my birthday and it’d be really mean to kill me on my birthday.” 

Louis laughs again and he wants to tell Harry just how ridiculous his argument is but he doesn’t because the innocence behind the words is just too cute. If Harry wants him to stay for a while then he can’t seem to find a reason to go. And the situation is still weird and makes little sense but it might be his only chance to know the baker a little better and he’s going to take it.

 

Harry is exempted of cleaning duty today because it’s his birthday and he has a guest to take care of. Louis would have been fine watching Harry flex his muscles to put chairs on tables but he’s just as happy to be let in Harry’s flat before having a chance to bolt. Harry apologies for the possible mess they’ll find behind the door so Louis assures him it can’t be worse than the mess he’s left at home. He sees the bathroom first, which makes sense because it is just opposite to the entry door, and follows Harry down a small corridor, noticing the concert tickets and photography scattered over the white walls. He wants to stop and look at them, wants to know what Harry deems good music and decide if they could possibly be friends, but Harry doesn’t slow down and goes straight to the tiny kitchen in the right corner of the main room, putting boxes of leftovers in his little fridge and pouring steaming tea into two mugs instead of the Styfoam cups. Louis takes in his surrounding, mesmerised by all the artsy pictures covering every tiny patch of the shared wall with what Louis believes to be Harry’s bedroom, some of people and some of landscapes, some in colours and some in black and white, but all equally beautiful. He’s drawn to the photographs like Winnie The Pooh is drawn to honey. And yes, the comparison is lame but he has a two-year old at home who is obsessed with Winnie The Pooh and it takes over his mind sometimes. Most of the portraits are candid, shots taken without people noticing or minding in the least. It’s a lot of the same faces too and Louis reckons these are the people important to Harry. His eyes drift to the landscapes, carefully tugged under the portraits but still visible. They aren’t the typical Heaven-looking location people like to put on their walls. They are of ruins and a lone tree in a devastated forest, of a wooden bench in the middle of nowhere and shaped hills. Louis has spent most of his day wondering about the young baker and he feels like all of the answers are on these walls. He just has to look close enough to find them. He’s faintly aware of the fact that he looks like a creep right now, inspecting Harry’s walls like they might hold the answers to life, so he tears his eyes away from the wall and looks at Harry instead.

“These are amazing.”

“I just take a lot of pictures.” Harry defends. “For every decent one, there are about a hundred horribly bad ones.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself, Harry.” Louis says, his frown turning into a smile when he notices the pink rising on Harry’s cheeks. Harry shakes his head once and his short curls look a right mess but he manages to tame them a little shortly after, saving Louis the embarrassment of surrendering to the urge to run a hand through the brown locks. They sit on the black couch propped against the wall opposite to the photographs, cooling cups of tea in their hands. 

“So how does it feel to be twenty?”

“How do you know I’m twenty?” Harry asks with a confused frown that makes Louis realize Harry hasn’t told him his age yet and he must look like a creep now. He’s not sure how he remembers it either. Jade always rambles about a lot of things and he always forgets half of these things by the time she’s finished. He shouldn’t remember such a random fact about Harry, just like he shouldn’t have remembered his name after being told just once. 

“I have been watching you, young Harry.”

“I think what you mean is you’ve been stalking me.”

“Alright but with reasons.” Louis says with all the seriousness he can muster as he leans closer to Harry and whispers in his ear. “I’m a MI5 agent and we want to recruit you.”

Harry bursts out laughing, green eyes going wide and impossibly light while his hands clamp over his mouth. Louis is quite certain this is the most adorable thing he has ever seen but he dismisses the thought quickly because that is just weird. And Emma is the cutest thing he has ever seen anyway, hands down.

“Explains why you keep coming in at the same time every morning to order the exact same thing and sit at the same table.”

“Who has been stalking who now?” Louis laughs while Harry hastily looks down at his cup of tea. Louis likes to see him blush, he decides. He looks so young and innocent with a red face. Then again, Harry’s still young and he might as well be innocent for all Louis knows. Louis might have spent the last few months creating the baker in his header but he’s never come close to the real thing. He’s never thought he could be a twenty-year-old boy with natural charm.

“Do you like music?” Harry asks, quite literally jumping to his feet and striding to the other side of the room. Louis notices the large amount of discs on the shelves next to the window and walks over to them, Harry’s questions forgotten as his eyes roam over the stacks. Harry seems to have a rather eclectic taste when it comes to music. There’s a bit of everything from pop to rock n’ roll, electronics to dubstep, popular acts to indie bands. Louis doesn’t know half of the names he reads on the covers but those he recognizes he loves too.

“A friend of mine is a radio DJ.” Harry says to explain his impressive collection, although how it explains anything Louis isn’t sure but he nods distractedly and picks a case out of the bunch, handing it to Harry who beams at the sight, obviously pleased with Louis’ choice. They both wait for the music to start before getting back to the couch, sitting closer to each other than before as they share their opinions on the band.

Louis can’t remember ever feeling this comfortable with someone he’s just met but Harry makes it easy. He seems a little shy at times, kind of self-conscious too, but he’s good at covering it up. They have heaps in common, Louis realizes early on. They both love music, find out they went to a few of the same gigs without ever meeting each other, which is not surprising considering how many people are at gigs but the coincidence makes them laugh regardless. They both love football too, both support Manchester United. Harry jokes that they’ve probably been in the same stadium too then and Louis doesn’t contradict him because he doesn’t want to explain why he never goes to any games other than the ones he coaches.

Hours pass with them talking about one thing or another and laughing at each other’s past antics. Night falls before either of them can notice just how late it is and it’d be sort of ridiculous for Louis to go to Zayn’s now so he gets ready at Harry’s, with Harry. They share the small bathroom, stepping into each other personal space more often than ever, and it could be awkward but it really isn’t. It feels almost normal, familiar. It feels nice.

 

 The Glades is nothing like Louis has imagined it to be, which, to be fair, only means that it is not an over-the-top nightclub with dancers in flying cages and colourful boas. It is rather huge with its two floors and three bars. The dance floor takes most of the ground floor, the DJ’s booth a simple shoebox in the far corner. The club’s already crowded when Louis and Harry get there and it’s a struggle to make it to the staircase but Harry has a firm grip on Louis’ wrist as he leads him through the ocean of people and he pushes everyone out of their way rather effectively. Louis won’t admit it because he’s just met Harry a few hours ago but he feels safer than he’s ever felt when Harry’s fingers close around his hand. They finally make it to the first floor where all of Harry’s friends are already waiting because Harry is late to his own birthday party and it may be Louis’ fault but neither of them will admit it. There’s a roar of Happy Birthday, which makes Harry blush a deep red and squeeze Louis’ hand for some reason. Louis looked down at their linked hands and frowns because they fit perfectly and it’s not weird. It’s not weird at all.

Harry tugs him along as he goes to greet his friends, accepting their hugs without letting go of Louis’ hand. Harry has a lot of friends, Louis thinks, and they are as diverse as the boy’s music taste. Harry introduces him to everyone, his name rolling off his tongue like they’ve known each other for years instead of just a few hours. And it still doesn’t feel weird. It feels like when they got ready together in that small bathroom; normal and familiar.

“I’ll go get us drinks, yeah?” Louis says when he sees a bunch of hipsters walking in their direction, all of them eyeing him suspiciously. Harry nods slowly, warm smile on his lips, and releases Louis’ hand. Louis smiles back, tries not to dwell on the coldness he feels now that Harry’s hand is no longer around his. It’s only when the bartender asks him what he wants that he realizes he’s never asked Harry what he wanted to drink. He scans the crowd to find the younger man, ready to make his way back to him and ask what he should get him, but he spots him kissing a short blonde man on the cheek, his lips lingering there a bit too long for it to be called friendly. Louis frowns at the sight, swallows with difficulty, and turns to the bartender to ask for their strongest liquor.

He’s on his fourth shot of vodka when he feels his phone vibrates against his leg. He takes it out with shaky hands, the words blur a little but he gets the important parts anyway. Zayn is no longer coming, using Louis’ newfound friendship with Harry to get out of the situation, and Louis isn’t really surprised. He’s sort of been waiting for his best friend’s to stand him up since he told him that he’d be walking to the club with Harry. And he should be mad, he knows, because he’s got into a fight with his girlfriend to be here with Zayn and Zayn can’t even be bothered to come but he’s not mad. He’s wished for a time off and he’s been given it and more. No one knows him here. No one knows he’s a father. He does have to be responsible or mature enough to set a good example because no one will judge him if he just acts his age for once. 

“It’s not nice to leave me waiting on my birthday.” Harry smirks, casually leaning against the counter and looking really tempting. Louis shakes the thought out of his head and tries to make sense of Harry’s words but only clicks when the bartender hands a beer to Harry. He was supposed to get him a drink, he remembers, but then he saw him with the blonde guy and decided to drink on his own. Louis motions to his empty glass, watches the transparent liquid fill it up again and downs it in one gulp.

“Zayn’s not coming anymore.”   

“You’ll just have to stick with me then.”

Louis takes his eyes off of the half-empty bottle of vodka in front of him to look at Harry instead. He’s smiling again, it’s all teeth and dimples, genuine. Louis considers arguing and telling him there’s a floor full of people that are here for him and he doesn’t need a stranger glued to his side on his birthday, but he doesn’t even have time to open his mouth that Harry’s hand is back around his own, tugging him away from the bar and down to the dance floor.

Louis is a horrible dancer when sober and so he knows it can only be worse when tipsy but he lets Harry guide him downstairs, to the dance floor. He lets Harry laugh at his ridiculous moves too, feeding off of the sound for some reason, loving how real and happy Harry is. He’s happy too, he realizes, happy to be here, happy to be with Harry and not Zayn because without Zayn there he’s not a best friend, he’s not a boyfriend and he’s not a father. He’s just Louis Tomlinson, just a twenty-two year old having a great time with a mate, with Harry Styles. And it feels good. It feels right. And he never wants it to end. 


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who have read the prologue and first chapter, I truly hope you'll be coming back for chapter 2 (here, now) and all the chapters after that. Special thanks to those of you who left kudos & bookmarked this, I'm not used to having people reading my stuff so.. yaay, thanks.

The first thing Louis registers when he wakes up the next morning is the banging in his head; a sure sign that he has had one too many drinks at Harry’s party. He doesn’t even try to open his eyes at this point, just sinks his face deeper into the pillow and groans and then frowns because the scent invading his nostrils is not the synthetic flower scent of the powder Haley uses to wash their bed linen. He likes this new brand; the smell is a lot less sickening and fake and girly. He doesn’t know what made Haley switch powders but he hopes she’ll never go back to the old one. He’ll tell her so if she’s still talking to him. He can’t remember going home last night, can’t remember much of last night at all to be fair. The most part of his memories is from before he tried to out drink Harry’s blonde friend, the one Harry kissed on the cheek. He feels the bile rise in his throat as the image makes his way back to the front of his mind and swallows it as best as he could. It doesn’t make sense for him to feel sick just because he saw a guy he’d just met kiss another guy so he will blame it on the hangover that is slowly killing him. It wouldn’t be his first time getting sick because of all the alcohol he’s capable to drink. He rolls on the other side of the bed, faintly hoping the sickness will pass if he’s on his back, but he lands on the floor instead. He would have thought he simply slept on the wrong side of the bed if it weren’t for the coldness on his back. He shouldn’t be lying on cold tiles, not since Haley has had all three bedrooms carpeted. He might not be completely sober yet but he manages to connect the dots and realizes that he isn’t in his bedroom. The shock of this realization is enough to force his eyes open. There are stars up above his head, worn-out glowing stars glued to the ceiling that is. He stares at them for a minute or two or ten. He half-expects them to align and fill the blanks in his head but they don’t hold any answers, of course. He takes in a deep breathe and sits up, whimpering when all of his muscles decide to remind him of their existence, even the ones he wasn’t even aware he had up until now. He looks around, takes in his surrounding and leans against the bed. He doesn’t recognize the place, is pretty sure he’s never been in here before, and there aren’t any indications to who lives here. The queen size bed is pushed against the right corner of the room, a double window next to the headboard and a giant wardrobe opposite it. The walls are stripped naked save from the map world above the desk in the left corner and the bookshelf next to it. The place is immaculate too, nothing’s out of place, there’s no clothes on the floor, no books scattered on the desk.

Louis runs both hands over his face, collecting the sweat lingering on his skin. He feels like death, smells like it too. He wants to crawl back in the stranger’s bed and sleep through the rest of the day but he can’t. He has to go home and face Haley, has to make amend somehow. He won’t apology for spending the night out, he shouldn’t have to, but he truly is sorry for ruining the weekend Haley planned for them. And he’ll have to apology for the words he let slipped out of his mouth, the words that he wishes weren’t holding that much truth in them. Guilt runs through his veins now, slowly replacing the small remains of alcohol.

“Hey, you’re awake!”

A voice Louis recognizes as Harry’s say in a tone quiet enough to not cause Louis more pain. Louis looks through the space between his fingers to see the younger boy leaning against the doorframe, a fuming cup of tea in one hand and tablets in the other. There’s a small smile on his lips too and Louis can’t decide if it’s more of an amused smile or a concerned smile.

“How you’re feeling?”

“I think there’s a drummer living in my brain.”

“He’ll relocate by the end of the day, don’t worry.”

“Yeah, he better.” Louis mutters, throwing his head back against the mattress and hiding his face with one arm. He considers swearing off alcohol for the rest of his sad life but he knows he’ll go on a binge soon enough, know he’ll need another time off at some point, so he won’t even pretend he wants to change. He is seriously thinking about hitting his head against a wall, though, to make the pain more physical than sensorial. Harry nudges him in the rib to get his attention, handing him both the tea and pills. Louis takes them with a grateful smile that probably looks more like a grimace than anything, really. He swallows the pills with a sip of the tea, welcoming the burn on his tongue, as it seems to release the pressure in his scalp. Harry sits next to him, bringing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. He looks defensive somehow, like he’s trying to protect himself. The baker hasn’t been in the room five minutes that Louis can already sense the difference in their interaction from the day before. It’s not as easy, not as comfortable, and it upsets Louis a little.  

“Last night’s kind of a blur.” Louis says after a few minutes of strange silence and sees Harry nod from the corner of his eyes. He vaguely remembers staying by Harry’s side all night, listening to stories of Harry’s past and dancing with Harry and laughing with Harry and just having a great time with Harry. Harry’s friends aren’t half bad either, from the little he remembers of them, but he hasn’t felt a connection with them, not like the one he’s felt with Harry.

“You got really drunk.” Harry states and Louis has to resist the urge to roll his eyes because that one’s quite obvious. “You never told me where you lived so I brought you back to mine.”

And okay, yes, it makes sense for Harry to not leave him to sleep off his hangover in a gutter somewhere because Harry is the kind of guy who cares for everyone and trust too easily. 

“Your clothes are in the dryer.” Harry adds as an afterthought. Louis looks down at his body, noticing for the first time that he’s not wearing his outfit from last night but a pair of sweatpants rolled up at the bottom and an oversized hoodie. He’s painfully aware of the fact that Harry might quite possibly be the one who changed him, which makes him groan because he definitely hasn’t known the other boy long enough to be comfortable with the idea of him seeing him at his lowest point. And he knows it was his lowest point because he now remembers puking all over himself when they stepped out of the club. He thinks that, maybe, he might prefer not remembering anything right now.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be a burden and I… I don’t usually drink so much. I just… Last night, I wanted…”

“It’s okay, Louis. Don’t worry about it, yeah? It’s all good, just a funny story I’ll use to embarrass you for years to come.”

The words come out of Harry’s mouth so easily, so truthfully, that Louis catches himself forgetting he’s only just met him, forgetting they’re not friends. He can see it, Harry reminding him how pissed he got on his 20th birthday, this stupidly infectious laugh of his ringing through the room. He’d like it. He’d really like it.

“Emily needs me to work today but there are towels under the sink in the bathroom and spare toothbrushes too. You just make yourself at home and come downstairs when you’re ready, yeah?” Harry says with a really small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes but Louis pretends to not notice it and just nods. Harry gets up and walks out of the room without another word. Louis waits to hear the distinct sound of a door closing before he releases a shaky breathe. The only comfort he finds right now is in the fact that he didn’t wake up in some random girl’s flat, which might have actually been less embarrassing when he thinks about it.

 

Louis takes his time in the shower, the scorching hot water easing his aching muscles, but he doesn’t loiter in Harry’s flat for too long once he’s ready. He’s dying to look at every photographs pinned on the living room’s wall, read all the bands’ names on the shelves. He’s dying to know everything there is to know about Harry and maybe even more but he doesn’t think Harry will appreciate it if Louis rummaged through his things. And it is not how he wants to learn all these things about Harry anyway. He wants to hear about it all, wants Harry to tell him. He takes a quick look at his reflection in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom’s door and pulls a face because he still looks like death even if he feels a little more alive since the tablets have kicked in. It can’t be a worse sight than the one of him covered of vomit, he decides, nothing that will scare Harry away. He runs a hand through his hair anyway, places his fringe back over his forehead before grabbing his duffle bag. He’s not ready to go home, not ready to face Haley and Emma, but he can’t delay it much longer.

A young man Louis has never seen before replaces Jade behind the counter but Louis isn’t surprised. Jade has had a fair lot to drink last night, maybe not as much as Louis himself but not much less, so she’s probably wearing it off in a dark room somewhere. He’s not even sure she works on the weekends, actually. He’s never been here on weekends; too busy playing the perfect little family with Haley and Emma. He looks around, feels his stomach churn painfully at the sight of couples feeding treats to each other. There are kids too, running around their parents’ table. Louis can’t remember seeing the place so alive before. He’s thought about bringing Haley and Emma here a few times but never got around to actually do it. He likes the idea of the café being his safe place, being the one thing he doesn’t have to share with his girlfriend. The door of the kitchen is wide open for once and Louis is finally able to see Harry at work. He’s laughing with a woman while laying batter on a plate. He looks happy, completely at ease and in his environment. The only thing that looks out of place is the string-bag on Harry’s hair, keeping all of his curls away from the food. It looks ridiculous at best and Louis can’t help but chortle at Harry’s appearance. The sound startles both Harry and the woman with him. Harry’s face lightens up at the sight of Louis, or so Louis thinks at least, and he motions at Louis to come over. Louis doesn’t know much about hygiene in bakeries but he’s pretty sure he shouldn’t be allowed in the kitchen, even less so when the baker is baking. He shrugs it off, convincing himself Harry wouldn’t take any risk, and walks behind the counter. The man, whose nametag claim is called Michael, glares at him with the passion of a thousand burning flames but Louis ignores it. Harry puts the plate of what Louis expects to be cookies into the oven before turning to Louis with a wide smile on his face.

“How was the shower?”

“Helped change a hangover from hell to a hell of a hangover.” Louis says with a one-shoulder shrug and he knows the answer doesn’t make much sense, is far from funny too, but Harry cackles anyway, bringing a hand over his mouth to cover the sound. Louis feels the corner of his lips turn up. Harry is just too adorable to be true, he thinks. And frowns. He shouldn’t find Harry adorable. It’s not like him to think such things about people, especially other guys.

“Right.” Harry laughs. “Louis, this is Emily. She likes to pretend she’s my boss sometimes but really I’m the only authority in this kitchen.” He jokes lightly, which results in Emily throwing bits of batter in his direction. Louis has barely any time to wonder if it’s going to turn into a proper food fight that he is attacked by images of Harry’s face being pushed into his birthday cake by two of his friends. It was his idea, he remembers now. He saw the colourful icing and joked about how good it’d look on Harry’s face. A brunette with short hair and brown puppy eyes, Liam if Louis remembers correctly, heard him and agreed. Harry was more shocked by his best friend taking part in the prank than by the prank itself. And Louis had been right, he did look good with all these colours on his face.

“It’s nice to meet you, Louis.” Emily breaks through the memory with a soft voice and a warm smile. Louis takes her in then. She must have been pretty her youth, still is pretty to be honest, in spite of the grey hair and tern blue eyes. She reminds him of someone for some reason, he just can’t pinpoint whom exactly. 

“You too, Emily.”

“Do you want something to drink or eat? It’s on me.” Harry asks before Louis can say anything else. Louis knows he should leave now, should go home to his family, but he doesn’t want to. He wants to stay here, stay with Harry, get to know Harry better. He misses Emma, he does, but he’ll always have her at a fair distance and he’s not sure when he’ll get to be close to Harry again.

“Tea sounds grand but I can’t stomach the idea of food.”

“Harry’s chocolate chips bread is a great hangover cure if you are to believe my daughter.” Emily chirps in, Harry blushes and Louis smirks.

“Is it your secret for looking so…” great, he wants to say, maybe beautiful even. “Cheerful?” He says instead.

“No, I just didn’t drink half as much as you.”

It’s true too. He drank a few beers but didn’t touch one glass shot all evening. Louis thought it odd then, a birthday boy who didn’t take full advantage of the open bar. It makes sense now; Harry must have known he’d have to work. Louis covers his face with both hands and sighs dramatically, still ashamed by the antics he can remember and even more so by these he can’t remember yet.

“I did go on a binge, didn’t I?” He laughs nervously. “But thanks for, you know, taking care of my poor self and all that.”

“Liam got the short straw. He brought Niall home.” Harry says and Louis faintly wonders if he could have been waking up in Liam’s flat instead of Harry’s but decides that no, Harry wouldn’t have left Liam take Louis home, short straw or not, because Harry’s smirking like he’s just told him the funniest joke on Earth when he didn’t even try to say anything funny. 

“I can take it from here, dear. If you want to take a break.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’ll know how to get these cookies out of the oven before they burn, yes.” Emily says, feigning offence at how the kid treats her. She’s smiling, though, one of those warm smiles only mums are able to pull off, the ones that make kids think their mother has the answers to all the important questions in life. Louis wonders what Emily knows right now. 

“Come on, we’re going to test Jade’s theory on my chocolate chip bread then.”

And just like that Louis is being pulled out of the kitchen, Harry’s fingers on his wrist to guide him to a table at the back, Harry’s hands on his shoulders to sit him down. And Louis’ skin tingles where Harry touches him, the sensation lingers when he lets go. It’s strange Louis thinks, but not unpleasant. Harry leaves him there, rushes behind the counter to get two cups of tea and a pastry. Louis watches him with a fond smile because Harry really is adorable.

“So Jade is Emily’s daughter then?” Louis asks once Harry is sitting next to him, drowning his tea with milk and sugar.

“Yeah, the café’s sort of a family business, you know?”

“So who are you? To Emily, I mean.”

“I’m just a kid she kidnapped a few years ago.” Harry answers with such casualty that Louis is almost tempted to believe him. He knows there is more to the story but he won’t probe it. Harry will tell him if he wants to tell him. So he takes a bite of the bread instead and almost moans at the delicious taste of it. He’ll never get over how talented Harry is.

“Paul, Emily’s late husband, was known to be the best baker in the whole of Cheshire and that sort of made him a hero of mine growing up so when I heard he was looking for an apprentice here in Manchester I jumped in a train with a suitcase full of pastries I baked myself and got him to taste them all. The rest is history as they say.”

“How old were you then?”

“Just about sixteen.”

“And you moved to Manchester, on your own?”

“I couldn’t stay in Holmes Chapel anyway.”

“Why not?”

“Small towns weren’t really welcoming to gay kids back then.” Harry whispers, eyes trained on the cooling liquid in his cup. Louis’ heart falters at the sadness in the young baker’s voice. He hasn’t known Harry for too very long yet but he’s already seen so much good in him. He has the biggest heart of all and he doesn’t deserve this pain. Louis wants to tell him that, tell him that he’s an amazing guy regardless of who he loves and that he should never let anyone bring him down. But it’s not his place to say anything so he just reaches out and places his hand over Harry’s, squeezing in what he hopes is a comforting manner. He doesn’t let go. He can’t let go. He wants Harry to know he’s here and he’s not judging.

“Your bread really does wonder on hangovers, by the way.” Louis says after a few minutes, sensing Harry is just about to get lost in bad memories and wanting to wipe the sadness out of these beautiful green eyes. Harry looks up and forces a small smile when his gaze catches Louis’.  

“I might try to obtain patent, then.”

 

Louis hasn’t planned to spend all afternoon at the café, sitting on a corner of the worktable to watch Harry bake. It’s just kind of happened somehow, after Emily said he could camp out in the kitchen if he promised to not touch the food or utensils and he made sure he wouldn’t have to wear a stupid hat like Harry. He’s given himself two hours to spend with Harry before going home but he’s lost track of time and isn’t really sure how many hours has actually passed since. He’s not in any kind of rush anyway and could probably spend all day watching Harry bite the tip of his tongue when he concentrates or frown when he’s confused by a recipe he’s probably done a few thousands times before. Louis likes that Harry still looks at Paul’s cookbook after all this time, likes that Harry still gets confused by stuff in Paul’s cookbook after all this time. It makes him more real somehow, less inhumanly perfect or something. Harry doesn’t talk when he bakes so Louis has to do all the talking, save for a few interventions from Emily. He jokes around, shares bits and pieces of his life with the pair. He doesn’t go into details, not with Emily there. He’s careful with his words; careful with the information he gives Harry. He doesn’t mention Haley once, only alludes to Emma’s existence a couple of times and always in the middle of a story including his little sisters. He doesn’t talk about his aborted career as a professional football player, just mentions he’s always liked football in passing to explain why he’s become a P.E teacher. He doesn’t want to lie to Harry, nor does he want to keep any truth from him, he just doesn’t talk about his life very much. He always gives basics information when probed, never more than basics information. He doesn’t like the idea of being vulnerable, of wearing his heart on his sleeves. He’s guarded, always has been and always will be. He might have accepted this fast-growing friendship with Harry faster than any other friendship in his entire life but he isn’t quite ready to let Harry in completely, not yet. He’s keeping a lot from Haley and he’s known her for years, has a daughter with her. Even Zayn doesn’t have all the keys to get in Louis’ brain and he’s the closest friend he has in Manchester. Stan is the only one outside of Louis’ family who can brag about really knowing him and that’s only because they’ve known each other since their diapers day. Louis isn’t sure he’d talk about everything with Stan if he hadn’t been there, living through these things with him.

He doesn’t always talk either, lets a comfortable silence surround them every now and then. He finds that he appreciates it, too. He’d have expected the kitchen of a bakery to resemble a battlefield, Harry being the brave soldier fighting the enemy full force, but it’s actually rather calm most of the time. Harry knows what he has to do and he does it without fretting. He messes up at times, not very often, but doesn’t freak out over it. And he lets Louis eats the slightly burned cookies or the too-sweet batter in the bowl so it’s not wasted anyway.  

“Paul was an artist, you know?”

The sound of Harry’s voice startles Louis who all but gave up on getting a word out of the baker before his next break. He looks up from his spot on the tiled floor, the wooden spoon he’s been using to clean the bowl in which Harry prepared batter still in his mouth. Harry is scrunched over the table, his eyes set on a piece of paper resting next to the cake he’s spent the last hour baking and moulding. Louis looks around the kitchen as if to make sure Harry’s actually speaking to him even though there’s only the two of them in the kitchen right now, Emily sitting behind the counter during Michael’s break. 

“He could draw anything. The icing of his cakes always looked so great.” Harry continues. “And I’m just so rubbish. I couldn’t even draw a stick man to save my ass.” He laughs but it’s a fake laugh, broken and sad. Louis scrambled onto his feet walks the few steps separating him from Harry and he doesn’t think about it twice before pulling the boy in a hug. He hears the sadness in Harry’s voice, mixing with the over-present admiration for Paul, and it’s upsetting. Harry, Louis has come to realize, is a ball of happiness. He’s always smiling, always being nice. Life shouldn’t fuck with him. He shouldn’t have had to deal with bullying and he shouldn’t have to deal with loss. He should be given every reason to smile, to laugh, to show the world just how beautifully happy he is. And it’s not fair that he can’t do that sometimes, that he can’t just stay happy all the time no matter how hard he tries. So Louis tightens his arms around Harry’s waist and holds onto him with all he’s worth because that’s all he can do. And Harry leans into him, gripping the back of Louis’ sweatshirt tightly.

“You’re an artist too, you know?” Louis says, his lips brushing against the skin on Harry’s neck. “You might be shit at drawing but you’re an excellent baker and your pastries are like gifts from Heaven or something.”

And he’s aware of how ridiculous he sounds right now, how he probably doesn’t even make sense, but Harry’s shaking with laughter, his breath warm on Louis’ skin, and so it doesn’t matter if he feels like an idiot because this, Harry laughing, is what he wants, is what should be permanent. Harry should never stop to laugh, never stop to smile ever again.

Louis isn’t sure how long they’ve stayed like this, wrapped into each other’s arms, but he knows he wouldn’t have moved if it weren’t for Emily coming back. Harry is the first to shuffle away while Louis just lets his arms drop at his side, inadequate and numb. He feels a sort of emptiness, a sort of coldness, and he wants to find a rational reason to it, like a door half-open and a rush of cold air, but he can’t explain it. There’s no physical reason behind the feeling. It’s all in his head and he thinks that his head might be messed up, maybe from the alcohol he drank last night even if he feels as sober as ever now.

“Here, whisk this.” Emily says and shoves a ceramic bowl in Louis’ hands. Louis looks down at it, feels like the eggs are glaring at him for some reason. He should know what to do with this, he thinks, but he doesn’t. He looks at Harry for help but Harry is decorating the cake. He sighs and puts the bowl down on the table, right next to Harry’s cake. He grips the whisk and twists it around the bowl but nothing happens. He’s just about to give up when he feels Harry’s fingers close around his wrist, effectively helping him with the task. Louis grows confidence, starts to whisk faster and grins at the sight of the eggs changing texture. He dares a glance at Harry, feeling smug and proud at such a small accomplishment, but it makes him lose the rhythm and the bowl goes flying on the tiles at their feet. Louis feels the blood rushing to his face, can only imagine how red he is right now. He drops on his knees to clean up his mess, vaguely aware of the fact that he should not be using a dishcloth but ask for a mop instead. To say Louis is embarrassed would be an understatement but neither Harry nor Emily is laughing at him and he is really grateful for that.

“You’d make a terrible assistant.” Emily says, amusement evident in her voice when Harry crouches next to him to wash the tiles with a wet cloth. Louis can see the smirk on his face, the glint in his eyes, but knows Harry won’t make fun of the situation. He might have if Emily weren’t there but she is and Louis is already dying from embarrassment anyway.

“My mum compares me to a tornado, says I bring chaos and despair whenever I attempt to cook.” Louis jokes easily, grinning when Harry cackles and drops the cloth to cover his mouth with both hands. He loves this, loves hearing Harry laugh like this. It’s genuine and sincere and just adorable. And here it is again. The word just keeps popping up when he tries to describe Harry and it shouldn’t because adorable is not a word that should be used to describe a man. Emma is adorable, a kitten is adorable, but a man is not adorable.

“That’s just not acceptable.” Harry says once they’re done cleaning Louis’ mess. “I can’t be friends with someone who can’t do basics in a kitchen.”

Louis is about to argue that he’s quite good with the basics actually, makes excellent pasta and rice, but Harry is placing a new bowl in front of him before he can even open his mouth. Louis looks at Emily for help but she just shrugs before starting the decoration on the cake Harry has all but abandoned to help improve Louis’ inexistent baking skills.

So Louis sighs again, takes one of the eggs from the table and breaks it in the bowl. He pauses with half of the contents still in the shell, wondering if he should have put the yellow bits in another bowl. Harry shuffles closer and covers both of Louis’ hands with his so he can guide his movement and hold the bowl still at the same time. And Louis’ breath is stuck in his throat then because this, Harry pressed against his back, feels all too familiar.

He sees the memory unfold like a movie in his own head; sees his drunk-self drag a slightly tipsy Harry on the dance floor, both of them tripping on their own feet and laughing at their clumsiness. He sees Harry’s hands on his shoulders and his own on Harry’s waist. He sees the little space between their bodies, sees the way their hips move together. And he feels too, feels everything like he’s back at the club, back on the dancefloor. He feels the warmth of Harry’s tentative touches, feels the blood rushing through his veins, feels the heat coil in his stomach and his jeans getting too tight. And it’s all too much and he doesn’t want to see any more, doesn’t want to feel any more.

He scrambles away from Harry then and leans against a wall as he tries to breathe again. Harry is staring at him and Louis wants to scream at him, tells him to not look so confused because he has to remember what happened. He has to have remembered all along because he wasn’t drunk, not like Louis was, and he couldn’t have forgotten as easily.

“What’s wrong, love?” Emily asks, her voice dripping with concern and Louis wants to cry. He wants to cry until he’s too dry to tear-up. He wants to scream until he just can’t anymore. He wants to curl somewhere and maybe die because he is a horrible human being. He’s a cheater. The realization makes him sick and he feels the bile rising in his throat, burning. He can’t stay here anymore, can’t look at Harry anymore, so he runs. He runs out of the kitchen, out of the café. He doesn’t stop, not when he hears Harry call his name, not when he tastes vomit in his mouth and not even when his legs hurt. He deserves this, deserves the pain.

 

Louis ends up walking around Manchester for the hours, only driving home when the streets are almost empty and all the pubs are closed. He pulls into his driveway, turns the engine of and just sits still. He wants to disappear, wants to back out of the street and go as far as the car will get him. But he can’t leave Emma, can’t walk out of her life and have her grow up without a father. He knows how it feels to be left behind by a parent and he won’t hurt his daughter this way. He could never hurt his daughter this way. Haley will probably throw him out, she’d be stupid not to, but she won’t keep him away from Emma. He can’t believe he’s been stupid enough to have sex with someone. He could blame it on the alcohol, say he was too drunk to realize what he was doing, but he could have stopped it. Harry tried to stop it. Harry told him he’d regret it once sober. And he hates Harry for being right. He hates Harry, he does, except not really. He can’t make sense of anything, can’t make sense of the way he feels about Harry. He’s never looked twice at a guy, never thought of a guy that way, but he obviously did with Harry. He got off on just the feel of Harry’s body against his own, creamed his pants after rubbing himself against Harry’s strong thigh. And it makes absolutely no sense for him to do such a thing. He was drunk, beyond drunk even. He didn’t know what he was doing. He instigated it, he could have stopped it, but he didn’t know what he was doing. He’s not a cheater, no more than he is gay, he was just too drunk to realize. But it’s his fault, not Harry’s and not the alcohol’s. He’ll take the blame. He’ll take the fall. He’s a cheater but he’s not gay.

He takes in a deep breath and steps out of the car. He leans against it for a long while, the cold numbing his body but not his mind. He wishes it could numb his mind too. He wonders if it’s too late to turn back now, spend the night at Zayn’s, maybe get drunk again and spells out his sins for his best mate. But yes, it’s too late because Haley is standing on their doorstep and she’s staring at him. She doesn’t look mad anymore, Louis thinks, she looks tired and worried. Louis doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve her concern.

“God, Lou, what happened to you? Where’s your coat? Come on, you’re going to freeze if you just stand here!” Haley says softly when she should scream at him. She ushers him inside gently when she should hit him. And her hands are warm on his cold skin, her voice soft in his troubled mind. He doesn’t deserve her. He’s a cheater and he doesn’t deserve her. She leads him to the couch, wraps him up in the plaid they keep on the back of it for their movie nights, and he thinks he should tell her now.

“I’ll give you space when you’ll need it, just don’t disappear again.” Haley says. She sounds both tired and broken and there are tears in her eyes. Louis hates to know he’s put her in a state, hates to know he’s going to make it worse. He reaches out, puts his hand against her cheek and feels like crying too when she leans against his touch. He’s a horrible person, a poor excuse of a man.

“I’ll call your mum, tell her you’re home okay.” She says after what feels like an eternity to Louis. “You should call Zayn. He’s been looking for you all around town.”

Louis can feel his heart stop beating then because she knows he wasn’t with Zayn, probably knows Zayn wasn’t even at the party last night, and yet she’s not questioning him. She’s not asking where he was, who he was with. And it might be because she’s scared of the answer but it might also be because she trusts him. She shouldn’t trust him. She should have never trusted him. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, they say, and he’s just like his father.

“Hals, I… About last night…”

“What’s done is done, Louis.” She cuts him off. “We’re moving on, yeah?”

Louis looks at her now, really looks at her. She’s beautiful. She’s beautiful and she’s his. He might not be in love with her and she might not be in love with him but she’s his and he’s hers. And he could be in love with her, maybe, if he just forgets that he isn’t and that he’s never been. He loves her already so he could be in love with her too someday. He doesn’t deserve her but he wants to. He wants to give it a chance, a real chance. He wants to be hers completely and he wants her to be his completely. He’s a cheater but he’s not gay and he could be in love with her.

He’s a little bit like his father but not completely. He’s a cheater just like his father but he’s not running away. He won’t take the easy way out and leave his family behind. He’ll take the guilt, let it eat at him if he has too, but he’ll fix this. He’ll fix his own mess. He’s not a coward, not like his father. He’ll make it better not worse. He’s a little bit like his father but he’s not like his father because he’ll fight. He’ll stay and he’ll fight and he’ll make everything better.

 “Yeah, we’re moving on.” He smiles.

He’ll tell her, he promises himself, just not tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If any of you wants to talk, maybe possibly have sneak peeks of the next chapters (who knows?) or ask questions or whatever, you can find me on tumblr: mustbe-themusic.tumblr.com  
> Let's be friends, yeah?


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thanks to you who are reading ADL. Whether you'll come back for the other chapters or not (I hope you will).  
> You can find me on tumblr mustbe-themusic.tumblr.com. Talk to me if you want to be teased about the future of Louis & Harry :p

The couple of weeks after the party come and go as a blur to Louis. The guilt is still eating away at him but the confusion has settled in too and the two don’t make a good mix. He goes through the motions, follows through the routine he’s perfected since the beginning of this school year with the only exception that he doesn’t go to the café anymore. He’s walked past it a few times, has hesitated by the door until he’s caught a glimpse of Harry and hurried away before anyone could see him. He’s tried to make sense of what happened that night, tried to understand how he could have gotten off on the promiscuity with another man, but he has only confused himself more. He isn’t gay. He has never even contemplated the possibility that he could be gay. He’s always been awkward with girls, has not always liked sex with girls either, but he’s never been much more comfortable with guys. He’s never even thought of having sex with a guy, has never fancied a guy. He might have a man crush on Ryan Gosling in most of his movies but that’s pretty much everyone he knows, male and female alike. He’s wondered if he might have been gay without knowing it; wondered if maybe he could have just started being gay recently somehow. And he knows it doesn’t work that way, knows one just doesn’t wake up gay one morning, but he’s confused and he’s not really thinking straight. He called in sick at work the Monday after the party, told Haley he had some sort of stomach bug so she’d take Emma to day-care and possibly pick her up too, and he searched the internet for clues. He’s never felt as silly as when he laid in bed that day, reading faceless strangers talk about their epiphany and watching bits of gay porn to see if it had any effect on him. It hadn’t. He didn’t get hard watching guys go at it like rabbits, didn’t even get a little turned on, but then again, straight porn has never really done it for him either so he doesn’t consider it absolute proof of anything. He’s thought about talking about it with someone but isn’t sure how to even bring the subject out. He can’t just slip it in random conversations, like it’s really no big deal when he’s painfully torn about it. He’s not really sure who he could talk about it with either. He thinks Zayn and Stan are his best shots but Zayn is drowning in school work and Stan is overseas for an internship of some sort. He almost told his mum over the phone once but decided against it. He’s close to her, always has been, but not close enough to discuss his sexuality with her. He’s still having nightmares when he remembers the bee talk from all those years ago. Harry could help, he knows, he could fill in the blanks in his memories, maybe give him answers he so desperately needs but he’s not ready to face him yet; might never be ready really.

So he keeps himself busy, tries not to think about who he cheated with and just make amends for cheating instead. He fixes breakfast for Haley and him every morning and waits for her to eat dinner in the evening. He shows interest in what she does and doesn’t shrug her off when she’s getting handsy. He even initiates sex now, which pretty much never happened before. He’s never wanted to be like his father, never wanted to cause the same pain the man caused his mother, so he tries to better himself. He tries to be a good boyfriend. He knows he should tell her, beg for her forgiveness with her knowing what she should forgive him for, but he doesn’t want to hurt Haley so he goes with the idea that what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. He knows she notices the changes in his behaviour and in their relationship, knows she has to be suspicious of something, but she doesn’t say anything. She will confront him eventually, he knows she will, and he’s dreading it because he won’t lie to her. He can’t keep the truth from her but he can’t lie to her. He can’t stop what he’s doing either, not when he’s still feeling guiltier than a convicted murderer.

“Good morning, boyfriend.” Haley sing-songs when she steps in the kitchen, a smile on her lips and a glint in her eyes as she leans on her tiptoes to plant a soft kiss on his lips. Louis smiles down at her and hands her a plate with scrambled eggs and buttered toast. He takes his own plate and goes to sit next to her.

“We could go to Pleasure Beach over the weekend.” Louis says, picking at his eggs but not eating them. He’s too tired to be hungry, hasn’t slept more than a couple of hours in what feels like forever. He’s about to crash and burn, he knows it, but he can’t stop the whirlwind of thoughts in his head when he lies in bed at night, can’t stop the dreams from waking him up with their intensity.

“I don’t think Emma will be let on many rides.”

“There’s plenty others things to do in Blackpool. The ice rink, for one, I’m sure she’ll love ice skating as much as she likes roller skating. We’ll just have to hold onto her tighter.”

“We don’t have to go out of town every weekend, Louis.”

“Right, forgive me for trying to get us out of a boring routine.” Louis snaps. He pushes his seat away from the table with more strength than he planned and goes to throw his untouched breakfast in the bin. It’s just a feeble attempt at distancing himself from Haley and she knows it just as well as he does so he’s thankful when she doesn’t move closer. He keeps busy for a bit, rinsing his plate and the pan with water hot enough to turn his skin red.

“I just don’t want Emma to get used to it, alright? So she won’t miss it as much when you’ll have dealt with whatever makes you feel the need to have some bonding time with us both.” Haley says after long minutes of uncomfortable silence. Louis spins around to look with a glare that he’d like to believe is angry but know is sad more than anything.

“Why is it so hard for you to believe that I actually want to be with my family?”

“I know you, Louis. I know you love Emma with all your heart and you care about me too but this, spending all of your free time with the both of us, it’s not you.”

Louis wants to argue but he can’t because she’s right. He’s always spent a lot of time with Emma, even before he started taking care of her before and after school, and he’s always loved every minute of it too, but he’s never shown much interest in fitting Haley’s idea of a perfect family. He’s gone to all the trips she’s planned over the years, often enjoyed himself too, but he’s never chosen a family outing over a hang-out session with Zayn or Stan. 

“Maybe I want it to be me.” He says. “Maybe I want to be a better father and a better boyfriend.”

“You already are amazing at both.”

“I’m not.” He whispers and turns back to face the sink because he can’t look at her anymore, not when he’s about to confess his worst mistake so far. “The night I went missing, after our fight, I... I met this guy and I... I don’t know, I just really liked being with him at that moment because it was so simple. He didn’t expect anything from me, didn’t ask anything of me. We went out and I drank so much... I just forgot about my life. I forgot about you and I forgot about Emma.”

“Is it what this is all about then?”  Haley cuts him off. “If you’re feeling bad for pretending to be someone else for a few hours then you can stop torturing yourself because it’s okay. I do it too sometimes, you know? We’re still young and we should be out partying with our friends instead of reading bedtime stories to our kid so I think it’s normal for us to want a simpler life sometimes and it doesn’t mean that we are horrible parents or that we want out of this life.”

Louis listens to every word, lets them all sink in, but he can’t make truth of them. He feels tears pricking in his eyes and sobs caught in his throat. He hears Haley’s footsteps hurrying closer to him and feels her arms circle his middle. She holds him tight but not tight enough that he can’t turn in her embrace. He wraps his own arms around her, rests his head against her shoulder and lets the tears roll down. She should be pushing him out of the door, not comforting him. She should yell at him, not reassure him. She thinks she knows, thinks she understands, but she doesn’t, she can’t, because he still hasn’t told her anything.

“I just don’t want to be like my father.” He whimpers and the statement is simple but it holds so much meaning. It’s the closest he’ll ever get to tell her about Harry but she won’t ever know it. There are so many things he’ll always hold against his father that cheating on his mother for half their marriage doesn’t even come on the top five. 

“You’re nothing like him, Louis.”

He’s everything like him. He’s everything he’s always despised. He’s a cheater, a liar and a coward.

 

Louis ends up calling in sick again. He’s looked exhausted enough the past few days that the secretary doesn’t even ask what got him, just wishes him to get better soon. He goes back to bed as soon as Haley and Emma are out of the door, desperate to catch a few more hours of sleep. He drifts off within minutes but jolts awake nearly an hour later, sweat dripping off his fringe down his forehead and heart hammering against his ribcage. He’s dreamt about it again, the night he spent with Harry, and he doesn’t know if these are actual memories or just his imagination playing tricks on him but either way the dreams are always detailed enough to leave him with a hard-on. He’s so hard it hurts but he refuses to wank over the images in his head. He won’t touch himself while thoughts of Harry run free in his mind. That’s a line he’s not ready to cross yet, a line he doesn’t want to cross. So he sits up, leans against the headboard and stares at his tented boxers. He misses the few hours he spent with Harry in blissful ignorance, wishes he could forget again. He’d sell his soul to the Devil if it meant getting rid of these unwanted memories. He’d only keep the memories of Harry at the bakery and at home. He’d want to remember the way his green eyes light up when he speaks of something he’s passionate about and the way he bites his lip when he’s out of his comfort zone. He wants to keep the images of Harry’s hand working on batter, creating shapes and forms. All Louis wants to forget is how Harry’s touches left him burning with desire, how the simple feel of his fingertips brushing his skin sent electricity down his spine. He wants to forget how good it felt to be pressed against Harry, his warmth radiating through his clothes. He wants to forget he liked it, forget he came from it. But he doesn’t want to forget Harry. He’ll never want to forget Harry. He kicks the duvet off of the mattress in both frustration and anger before getting out of bed to take yet another cold shower. He sets the thermostat on the coldest it can get and strips out of his underwear. The water is like ice on his skin, so cold that it’s burning, but he stays under it. He takes the pain, uses it to excuse the silent tears rolling on his cheeks. He wonders if he’ll ever be able to let go of his guilt, to release the weight on his shoulders, but he knows he doesn’t deserve it. He’s made a mistake, the worse mistake that could ever be done, and now he’s paying the price. He’ll pay it for the rest of his life regardless of how things go with Haley. They could break-up next week for something that has nothing to do with his short-lived affair and he’d still carry the guilt of it. He wonders if his father still carries his own guilt too, for cheating on his wife and for abandoning his son. 

Louis’ lips have turned blue by the time he steps out of the shower and he can barely feel his body now that blood isn’t running as freely as they ought to be through his frozen veins. He sits on the cold floor for a long while, knees brought up against his chest and arms wrapped around them. He tries to keep his mind blank but fails quite miserably. He thinks of Harry’s pastries and how good they taste and how much he misses them. He misses Jade with her incessant and too obvious flirting. He misses the smell of freshly baked treats as he sips on his perfectly made tea. He misses Harry with his stupid hairnet and loud laughter. He needs to do something, keep himself busy, or he’ll just go back to the café and ruin all his efforts of the last two weeks. So he stumbles over to the bedroom, his legs still shaking from the ice cold shower, and grabs the phone on the bedside table. He stares at Haley’s name for a few seconds, debating whether to ask her out for lunch or not; but remembers his promise. He ends up texting Zayn and prays to a God he’s not even sure to believe in for his friend to have a free period today. He doesn’t wait for a reply to get dressed. He’ll go out regardless, can’t stay in and run in circles any longer. He’ll go and pick Emma up early, take her out somewhere away from his school and, by extension, the café. He’s just put on his jeans when his phone beeps to signal a new text message. He literally lunges across the bed to read it.

**“Free for lunch. Meet you at The Alibi in about an hour.”**

 

Zayn is late and he hasn’t bothered texting his sorry but Louis is too used to his friend’s bad habit to care. The place is packed with students chatting happily and none of them must be much younger than Louis but he feels like such an old soul because he’s pretty sure none of them have to worry about being on time to pick up their kids at day-care or working enough hours to get all of the expensive stuff their kids need while growing up. He’s pretty sure none of them are questioning their sexuality either, and they probably don’t drown in guilt for cheating on their significant other. He doesn’t know anything about them but he envies them by principles, more than he ever envied anyone before. Louis looks up when he hears the door crack open and he feels like someone has just punched the air out of him because here stands Harry and he’s scanning the room, obviously looking for someone. Louis pushes his beanie further down his face and shrinks in his seat. He should have known better than to expect a simple lunch with his best friend. He should have known life was going to play games with him, it always does. He glances at the young boy still standing by the door, sees him wave at someone with an all-teeth grin. He watches him walk over a table on the opposite side of the bar and into the open arms of a pretty girl with wavy light brown hair. They seem to be close friends, holding onto each other so tight it must hurt, but Louis is fairly certain the girl wasn’t at Harry’s birthday party. He knows they’re just friends, what with Harry being gay, but he can’t help the glare on his face. He’s not jealous. He has no reason to be. He just wishes he could be the one meeting Harry for lunch, wishes he could hug him like this. He’s been missing him for the past two weeks and it’s unfair that he has to see him now when everything’s still as confusing as the day he ran out of the café.

“Why are you trying to burn holes in that poor boy’s neck?”

Louis jumps out of his skin at the sound of his friend’s voice, spins around on his chair to look at him in unhidden surprise. He was so focused on Harry that he didn’t notice Zayn sit across from him and now he’s harbouring a questioning look and Louis feels like a deer caught in headlights, probably looks like one too. He recovers quickly and blurts out the first thing that comes to his mind, knowing Zayn won’t question it much because that’s just what Louis does sometimes. 

“I want to steal his curly hair.”

“You don’t need to kill him for that.”

“I don’t think he’ll let me shave it all off without a fight.”

“You might be right about that.” Zayn laughs.

Louis glances over his shoulder again and sees Harry do the same. He turns around so fast that he wonders how he managed to not snap his neck in the process but he doesn’t dwell on it too much because he has to get out of here before Harry approaches him.

“Let’s move.” Louis says, ignoring Zayn’s confused look as he pushes his chair away and makes his way to the door. He’d run if he could but he doesn’t want to look too suspicious, doesn’t want Harry to know he’s only leaving because he’s here too. He doesn’t look back to make sure Zayn’s following, afraid to catch a glimpse of Harry, and he can hear his hurried footsteps anyway. So he keeps on walking until he spots a place where they could get some food, and only then does he turn around to look at his friend. Zayn is staring at him, his face a mix of confusion and annoyance and he’s giving Louis this look that clearly says that he has some explaining to do now. He considers lying, saying he’s been sitting in the pub for the last forty-five minutes and needed a change of air, but he knows that won’t be enough of an explanation for Zayn.

“I cheated on Haley and the person I cheated with was at the pub.”

Louis says it fast enough that all the words melt together and form some sort of incoherent jumble but Zayn must have deciphered the jist of it anyway if the way his jaw goes slack is any indication. Louis doesn’t wait for him to recover before walking into the pizzeria and he doesn’t look at him when he stands next to him, staring at his profile instead of the menu.

“White pizza’s good? I’m not in the mood for tomato sauce.” Louis asks in a weak attempt to switch Zayn’s attention off of him and the shameful confession he just made. It works. Zayn takes his eyes off of him and moves them to the menu. He’s not a big fan of sour cream pizza, Louis knows, but he’ll agree to whatever because that’s what he does, who he is. He sighs and nods and orders a medium size chicken pizza. Louis pays for it and they get a table in the back, away from prying eyes and ears. 

“Alright, spill it now.”

Zayn has never been one to beat around the bush and Louis is grateful because he’s not sure he’ll have the nerves to say anything if he doesn’t say it all now. But he doesn’t know where to start, doesn’t know if he should tell Zayn about Harry ot just keeps it vague. He needs to clear his head, needs to figure things out, but he’s not ready to share his doubts just yet.

“The night you stood me up, I got drunk out of my head.” He starts. “I was beyond caring, only wanted to have fun and not mind the consequences.” He trails off then, takes on a deep breath before continuing with the important part of the story. He decides to go straight to the point, get it all done with faster. “Basically I dry-humped someone on the dance floor and I enjoyed it far too much.”

Louis buries his face in his hands as soon as the last word is out of his mouth, not brave enough to see the disappointment in his friend’s eyes. He sort of wants to cover his ears to, not sure he’ll be strong enough to hear the harsh words he’s sure will be said in a minute but he can’t do both so he waits. He waits for the words that will confirm he’s an arsehole. But they don’t come.

“How is that cheating on Haley exactly?” Zayn asks instead and Louis removes his hands to give him one incredulous look.

“I rubbed off on someone who is not my girlfriend.”

“Did the girl you… whatever, did she touch your dick?”

Louis considers correcting his use of a feminine pronoun for half a second before deciding against it because he’s aiming for a neutral gender approach and telling Zayn he got it wrong would sort of ruin it. Zayn makes some sort of hand motion to remind Louis that he is still waiting for an answer so Louis shakes his head because he’s fairly certain Harry’s hands didn’t go anywhere near his dick. 

“I kept my own hands on the shoulders.” Louis recalls without being prompted, knowing it’d have been Zayn’s next question anyway. “And maybe on the waist too but nowhere near… these areas.”

“Well then you didn’t cheat on anyone.” Zayn assures and Louis doesn’t argue because he wants to believe it. He wants to believe that he didn’t cheat on Haley, that this guilt he’s carrying around has no reason to exist, that he’s not gay just because he creamed his pants during a dirty dance with another guy.

“You might have violated a poor girl, though.” Zayn jokes once the waitress is out of earshot and Louis takes a mushroom off the pizza to throw it at his friend. Zayn dodges it and throws a piece of crumbs back at Louis and they both laugh because they are acting like kids but it’s okay. They can, they’re still young. And it feels just like old times, just like when Louis could spend time with his friends in daylight, when his life didn’t revolve entirely around Emma and maybe a little around Haley too.

 

So Louis doesn’t go to pick up Emma early and spends the afternoon with Zayn instead, sprawled out on the smoke-stained couch while he beats the shit out of him at FIFA. It’s nice to just chill with Zayn and to attack an innocent joystick instead of nursing a pint and to talk about the good parts of life instead of complaining about rough times. It feels good. Louis feels good. There’s no heavy weight on his shoulders, no guilt in his stomach and no worries in his mind. And he laughs, so much that he has tears in his eyes, and Zayn tells him that it’s nice to hear him laugh again, that it hasn’t happened in too long, and Louis agrees because it’s true; he doesn’t laugh much anymore. And it’s not that he’s unhappy because he really isn’t. He has a good life and he’s happy with it. He’s happy. But, maybe, just maybe, he could be happier. And maybe that’s what this whole thing with Harry is about. It’s not Harry himself that he wants in his life; that he misses every day. He doesn’t know Harry all that much, only spent about twenty-four hours with him. No, it’s how he felt with Harry that he wants, that he misses. And he feels like that now, with Zayn. He feels young and happy and alive. He doesn’t have to go through the motions because he is the motion. And it’s good. It feels good. And maybe he doesn’t need Harry then, not really. He can keep on living without him, keep on being happy without him. He’s done it for twenty-two years already. He just needs to spend more time with his friends, needs to remind himself that he isn’t just a father, isn’t just a boyfriend, that he’s also a friend and a son and a brother and his own person too. So he vows to see Zayn more often and Stan too, whenever he’ll be back. He thinks he might go visit his family too, just him. It’s been years since he’s seen his sisters without Emma being the centre of their attention, since he’s got to talk with his mum without Haley hovering close. It will be good, he thinks, to talk and to be with his girls again.

Louis walks in on Zayn telling someone that he can’t wait to see them tonight over the phone so he not so casually asks his friend what he has planned for the evening and Zayn tells him about a girl that he met a few weeks back, the girl he stood him up for the night of Harry’s birthday. Her name’s Amy and she has the soul of an artist but she’s studying economics and Zayn says it’s such a shame because she has so much talent. His eyes light up when he talks about her, shows something Louis has never seen in his friend before. Louis teases him, of course he does, but he’s happy for him. If love truly does exist then Zayn deserves to find it. He demands to meet the girl soon but Zayn refuses to let him scare this one away. Louis laughs at that because, yeah, he’s probably scared a few of Zayn’s girlfriends away in the past. 

Louis decides to leave after his fifth win. Zayn asks if he’s okay before he goes and Louis knows he’s asking if he’s still beating himself up for what happened with Harry. He will be eventually, he says, and he believes it too. The afternoon has helped clear his mind up and he feels a little bit less guilty. He doesn’t believe Zayn’s theory, doesn’t believe what he did was nowhere close to cheating, but he’s coming to terms with it. He’ll never do it again. He’ll never cheat again. He’ll never see Harry again. And it’s okay. It’s okay because he doesn’t need Harry to be happy. He’s realizing that now. He felt so close to the edge of breaking down when he met Harry and the few hours he spent at the bakery pulled him back. The way he felt then, carefree and a little reckless too, pulled him back. And he associated it with Harry but it has nothing to do with Harry and everything to do with him, with how he allowed himself to be someone different with Harry.

Louis won’t try to see Harry again, he decides, but he won’t try to avoid him either. He’s been going to the café every morning for about six months before finally catching a glimpse of the baker so he should be able to go there and not see him for the next six months. And if he can’t, if Harry appears at his table, tells him they could still be friends, then he’ll agree. It won’t hurt him to have another friend. Louis doesn’t need Harry to be a part of his life but he’d like Harry to be a part of his life. He’d like to have someone who doesn’t know everything about him yet and doesn’t need to ever. But he won’t push it. He’ll take it one day at a time; let things happen as they should happen. He doesn’t believe in fate, doesn’t think everything happens for a reason, but he believes there’s no use in forcing things to happen.

Louis is lost in thoughts of the delicious pastries he'll stuff his face with tomorrow when he reaches the day-care centre. Parents are crowding around the gates but he doesn't mind them, just walks past them and ignores their dark looks. It used to stink a little, how people were so quick to judge him once they knew about Emma, but he's used to it now. He's past caring about what others think of him, of his choices and of his life. All the people that are important to him love Emma, thinks she might be the best thing that has ever happened to him, and it's really all that matters.

“Louis?”

Louis freezes, hand on the door handle and foot still in the air, because he knows that voice, deep and rough but also sweet. He’d recognize it in a crowded room full of noise. He takes in a deep breath, plasters a smile on his face and spins around. Harry stands there, his signature all-teeth grin on his face and his curls a styled mess on his head. Louis would probably have left his eyes roam over Harry’s body, taking in the way these skin-tight jeans and clinging black t-shirt enlighten his perfect curves, if he weren’t busy staring at the little girl in his arms. He catches a glimpse of her bright brown eyes before she buries her face in the crook of Harry’s neck, her blonde locks falling to cover what she can’t hide there. She looks nothing like Harry and Louis knows better than to think Harry might be in a situation similar to his. Harry has just turned twenty and he lives in a flat above his workplace, has been living there since he was sixteen, and he goes to some of the best clubs downtown and gets drunk with his trillion friends. Harry’s life is nothing like his, that much has always been clear to Louis.

“What are you doing here?”

There is surprise in Harry’s eyes, and confusion too. And Louis knows he should tell him the truth, tell him he’s here to pick up his daughter, but he doesn’t want to see these green eyes clouded with judgement. He can’t lie either. He can’t deny Emma’s existence.

“The school I work at is down the block.”

Louis may be holding his breath, may be silently pleading with Harry to not ask any more questions. Harry doesn’t say anything, just stares at Louis with a frown so Louis decides to pretend he doesn’t see the questions in his eyes and turns to the little girl instead.  She’s turned her head just enough so she can look at him.

“Hi.” Louis says with a soft smile that only grows bigger when the little girl buries her face in the crook of Harry’s neck to hide, her lips curled upwards.

“You’re supposed to say hi back, you know?”

“Hi back.” The little girl repeats but she doesn’t look at Louis, beams at Harry instead. Harry shakes his head in amusement and nudges the little girl’s cheek with his nose until she can’t contain her laughter any longer. Louis watches them with the same soft smile as before on his face, thinks Harry is too adorable to be real. There’s a little voice in one corner of his brain whispering that he should tell Harry about Emma, that he wouldn’t judge him and could be his adorable self with Louis’ daughter too, but he quiets it down quickly. Harry puts the girl down, tells her to stay where he can see her and watches her run to the games.

“Sarah, Ronnie’s mum, she’s a freelance hairstylist and she has to take gigs out of town sometimes.”

“What about her dad?”

“He’s not in the picture.”

Louis doesn’t pry because it’s not his place and because Harry’s voice is filled with emotions that Louis doesn’t want to hear in there. They watch Ronnie play on the toboggan in a silence that is nowhere close to the comfortable silence they shared before. 

“Why are you avoiding me, Louis?”

Louis wants to deny it, considers saying he’s just been too busy to drop by the café these days, but one look at Harry lets him know that it’d be useless to lie. He’s sad and confused but not mad, not judging. Louis knows that Harry must have seen him at the pub today, might have seen him dig a hole on the sidewalk opposite the café many mornings of the last two weeks.

“I’ve been remembering bits and pieces of your birthday party. I’m still missing some parts of the nights but the memories I got back… they freak me out a little. Or well, a lot.”

“You were beyond drunk, Louis. And the dancefloor was so packed that we had no other choice than to dance close to each other. What happened was just your body reacting to the friction against your crotch. It was nothing more than a physical reaction. It doesn’t mean anything.”

Harry hasn’t taken his eyes away from Ronnie, not once, and Louis wonders if he’s more scared of losing sight of her or of looking at him. Louis thinks he should say something now, apology maybe, but Ronnie’s tugging at Harry’s pants to ask for his attention.

“I hungry, Hawie!”

“Good thing I baked extra cookies just for you then.” Harry says as he picks her up with just the shadow of a smile on his face. He turns to Louis then, his green eyes clouded with sadness that Louis wishes he could take the away. So he opens his mouth to say something, anything to let Harry know that the distance he tried to put between them hurt him too, that he’s tired of avoiding him and that he wants them to be friends. He wants it more than anything. But there’s no word coming out, no sound at all.

“I’ll see you around, Louis.”

And he will, Louis thinks. He definitely will. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm really not confident with this chapter, like I think I might hate it, so please don't judge the whole story on it. Comments are always welcome, I take con-crits with pleasure as I like to make my writing better.


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick message to thank Koolshelby and Bookbee for leaving comments last week. And also my Tumblr anon(s) for their messages. It means something to me when people take the time to comment/message/bookmark/give kudos... at least I know I'm not just writing for myself, ahah. So thanks a lot, really. 
> 
> Onto the chapter now. It's a quite heavy one, you'll have been warned.

**Chapter 4**

            Louis has been woken up in many different ways over the years, some stranger than others, but he can’t seem to remember a blowjob being one of them. He wouldn’t have been against it, obviously, but Haley’s not big on giving head and she’s the only girl he ever spent the night with. So it’s only logical for him to think the wet warmth around his shaft is all part of his imagination, especially as he can still see bits and pieces of his dreams playing out behind his closed eyelids. The odd thing is that his dream is nothing sexual, not really. There’s Harry on a beach, his brown curls looking lighter with the sun on them and his green eyes glistening with so much feeling as he flashes a grin that shows off his dimples. He’s laughing, loud and happy and genuine. And Louis watches him with a soft smile, love obvious on his every feature. They’re not kissing, they’re not even touching. Harry’s getting further and further away, actually, until all that’s left of him is the sound of his laughter. But Louis still feels warm down there, still feels the lovely pressure of lips around his tip. He’s also a little too conscious to keep on blaming his imagination. There’s no doubt left in his mind; he is awake and someone is currently sucking him off. And he knows that it’s Haley because who else could it be really, but he pretends she’s someone else, pretends she’s not even there. And he imagines those plump lips he’s been dreaming about so much, imagines them bruised from too much kissing and stretching around his cock. He’s almost convinced himself that he’s not currently in bed with his girlfriend, almost. And he realizes how wrong that is. He should be enjoying this, should be at least a little bit aroused by his girlfriend licking the whole length of his dick with an expertise he didn’t know she had. But none of her tricks are turning him on. She’s not doing it for him right now. She may never have done it for him; he’s not sure anymore. So he stops her. He threads his fingers through her blonde locks and pushes her off of him, pulls her up and gives her a lazy kiss. He tries to not scrunch up his nose in disgust at the taste of him on her tongue. He has half a mind to deepen the kiss then but thinks it’ll give her the wrong idea, it’ll make her think he wants this, wants to have sex with her. She’s straddling him now and scattering kisses along his jaw and yeah, alright, he can let her do that because it’s innocent enough he supposes. Except that it’s not because she’s bruising the skin a little, leaving small love bites for everyone to see, and it’s not okay. So he pushes against her shoulders, gently at first and a little bit more forcefully when he realizes she’s not going to stop. She finally gets the hint and detaches her lips from his skin. He mumbles about being too tired for sex and Emma is waking up quite early these days. He doesn’t open his eyes when he says this because he doesn’t want to see what emotions are showing on her face, can imagine them well enough anyway.

“You’re so fucking frustrating sometimes!” Haley says, shouts almost, as she rolls off of him. Louis thinks that now is not the time for a heated argument but he’ll let her call him out on all his bullshit anyway. He sort of deserves it, really. “Just a month ago you were horny as fuck and now you’ve turned into a fucking monk! You’re never up for it anymore!”

Louis has to bite the inside of his cheek to not laugh at the unintentional pun. He has a feeling she would kick his butt for laughing when she’s trying to pick a fight with him. Then again, it might take the focus away from the real issue here and he wouldn’t be against that. He would much rather not have to explain that he can’t have sex with her because he’s constantly thinking of someone else and it’s wrong. It’s so, so wrong. He can’t really deflect either. There’s no half-truth to tell, no words to twist in a more acceptable way.

“Well, you did ask me to drop the act.”

Louis spits the words out with such easiness that he wonders when exactly he’s collected so much hate. And it’s not Haley that he loathes, really it’s not, it’s the situation he’s in. But then he realizes what he just said, what he just implied, and he opens his eyes to meet Haley’s pained ones.

“That’s not what I meant. Shit, Hals, I just… Fuck.” He stutters. He messed up. He messed up bad and he doesn’t know how to fix it. But he wants to. He really wants to. So he reaches out, frames her face with his hands and searches for her eyes. He wonders if he can see the regret in his eyes the same way he can see the hurt in hers. But then she looks down at her hands on his collarbone and he thinks he’d deserve it if she decided to strangle him now.

“I know that Emma’s the reason why we got together in the first place and I accepted it a long time ago but I thought…” She stops, takes in a deep breath and catches his eyes again. “Is she the only reason why we’re still together?”

And Louis knows she’s opening an exit door for him, knows he could put an end to their relationship and get out of this hole he dug for himself. But he can’t. And he doesn’t want to either. He’s being unfair, he knows, but he thinks maybe that’s the life he’s meant to live. And he can’t cross it off without knowing for sure.

“I don’t know.” He admits. “But what I do know is that I care about you. I always did, even before Emma came along. And yeah, maybe it wouldn’t have been enough for us to get together but I think it can be enough for us to stay together. For now, at least.”

Haley doesn’t say anything, just nods slowly. And Louis finds himself wishing it could always be enough but he knows it won’t. There will come a time when they will want more, need more. So all he can offer is the here and now. But it can work, he thinks, if they just take it one day at a time. Haley is still looking at him, still looking for the truth in his eyes. The truth is that there is no truth and there is no lie because he has no answer to anything anymore. She must be satisfied with the absence of evidence because she’s smiling at him. It doesn’t quite reach her eyes but it’s a smile so he’ll take it anyway.

“Okay.” She says.

Louis smiles and kisses her because it’s not okay, it’s far from okay even, but it will be. Whatever happens next, whatever he’ll find when he’ll sort through the mess in his head and heart, everything will be okay. Eventually.

 

            Louis’ heart weights heavy in his chest after his conversation with Haley. He can’t forget the hurt and pain in her eyes. It’s engraved in his mind. And he hates to know he’s the reason why these emotions are in there, hates the thought of hurting her. But what he hates most is that he can’t do anything to stop it. He can just up and decide he won’t be confused anymore, won’t question everything that makes his life now. It doesn’t work that way. He knows because he tried. He’s spent the last four weeks trying to sort himself out, trying to make sense of his thoughts and feelings, but he’s nowhere near done yet. The thing is, that for every answer, there is a dozen more questions. And he feels like he’s losing sight of himself. So his head’s all over the place as he gets Emma ready for the day and he sort of leaves her to do whatever she pleases instead of rushing her. He sits at the kitchen table for a while, head buried in his crossed arms as he feels like hitting his forehead against the hard wood repeatedly.

“You sad, Daddy?”

“How could I be sad when I have you?” Louis says with a smile that might not catch his eyes but Emma has no way to know it so it doesn’t really matter if it’s real. She shrugs and crawls on his lap, kneeling there to put her tiny hands on his shoulders. He wraps his arms around her slim waist and hugs her tightly.    

“I want stay here, Daddy. With you.”

“But think of all the toys you’ll get to play with, Bugs!”

“Like dolls?”

“Among other things, yeah.”

Emma shrugs again and scrambles off of his lap to go back to whatever game she was playing minutes prior. He watches her for a bit, wonders if she knows Ronnie, if she ever plays with her. He thinks about arranging a play date one day, thinks about telling Harry that their girls would hit it off. But then he realizes that he’d have to tell him about Emma first. And he’d have to explain why he’s never talked about her before, not even once. They’ve been meeting up every morning for about a month now and have gone out with Harry’s friends a couple of times too, so surely there have been many occasions for him to come clean, many half-opened doors he didn’t bother taking. And it’s not that he didn’t want to. He’ll have to tell Harry about Emma eventually, he knows that, he just doesn’t know how to tell him. But he also knows that the longer he waits, the harder it’ll be. He glances at the digital clock on the microwave and takes in a deep breath. He stands up, puts on his brightest smile and turns to his daughter.

“Are you ready to go, Bugs?”

It’s time to face the music.

 

            Harry’s sitting by the window when Louis steps in the café after having dropped Emma off at the day-care centre; their usual cups of tea and shared chocolate chip muffin resting untouched on the table. Emma didn’t want to let go of him today, which has put him about fifteen minutes late on his schedule, but Harry’s still waiting for him. Louis can’t help but think that it’s the perfect representation of their story so far. Harry believes in fate, Jade told Louis once, and he believes they’re meant to be a part of each other’s life so he waited for Louis to come back after his birthday. He waited for weeks and he never lost hope; said fate would bring them back together somehow, eventually. And Louis doesn’t believe in fate, no matter how big the coincidences are, but he thinks that Harry might be right. There might be something pushing them together for some reason. And he wants to tell Harry that sometimes, when he’s a little drunk, but Jade only told him these things so he’d know what he was getting into if he decided to pursue this friendship of sorts and Harry has never mentioned his crazy beliefs to him so he doesn’t say anything. He keeps it all bottled up inside and it’s okay. It’s not the worst thing he’s keeping for himself.

He waves at Jade when he walks by the counter, sending her a small sympathetic smile as he hears a customer change her order for the third time in the last five seconds. He used to feel rather uncomfortable around her but he’s got to know her better since he’s been hanging out with Harry and realized she’s not half as bad as he made her out to be. And she’s a great friend to Harry. She might take on every opportunity to make fun of him but she cares about him so much. She’d do anything to protect him, for him. Louis is thankful for her, thankful that Harry has someone like her in his life. The door leading to the kitchen is closed, which means Emily is decorating some sort of cake and doesn’t want to be disturb. She doesn’t like interruption, Louis has learned the hard way. She forced him to eat an entire cake just three days ago, all because he startled her and she messed up the strawberry icing. Harry helped, of course, stuffing handful of the cake in his mouth whenever she had her back to them. Louis laughed so much that he couldn’t say if his stomach hurt from the laughter or from being too full. It’s a miracle neither of them choked on the food, really.

“Wait, is that a love bite?” Harry asks as a way of greeting and Louis silently curses himself for not tightening his scarf. And it’s too late now but he adjusts it anyway, hides the incriminating bruise under the rough material. Any other day he’d sit right next to Harry, their elbows and shoulders brushing against each other every so often. Today, however, he slips on the chair on the opposite side of the table. And he leans against the back of the seat, away from Harry.

“It’s just a bruise, Haz.”

“You know that your students are going to think you’re the man, right?” Harry laughs. “Or is it what this is all about? Oh, did you do it with a vacuum?”

Louis can’t tell if Harry is being serious or not right now but it doesn’t stop him from thinking he’s being damn adorable anyway. So he smiles, he can’t help it, and he feels the crinkles around his eyes but he finds that he doesn’t mind them all that much today. They’re like a reminder that he can be both messed up and happy sometimes.  

“It’d take a crazy person to do such a thing, Harry.”

“You’re not really the sanest man alive, Louis.”

Fair point, Louis thinks. “I don’t think it’d be really safe, though.” He says instead.

“Very true.” Harry concedes. “So what did you use to do it then?”

“My girlfriend.”

The word is out of Louis' mouth before he can think it fully. Harry doesn't say anything, just stares at Louis with a sad frown, and Louis thinks it might be worse than being yelled at. He can't get out of this one, he knows, so he'll have to make it as casual as possible, make it so it won't be so strange he has never even mentioned a girlfriend in the month and a half they've known each other.

"How long have you been together?" Harry asks and. Louis knows there's no way to deflect. And he can't just pretend it's not that big of a deal either, not if he tells Harry the truth. He doesn't want to lie.

"About three years."

Louis swears he can see the light in Harry's eyes disappear as he nods slowly. Louis thinks he should say something, apologise or just explain that he didn't mean to not talk about her before. It's just that he sort of forgets all about Haley when he's with Harry. But Harry is no longer looking at him, focused on the sidewalk outside instead, and Louis knows he needs to give him this moment. The silence is heavy between them, uncomfortable, a clear contrast to all the other silences they've shared. Louis can't remember a time he hated himself more than he does today. He splits the muffin in two, pushing the bigger piece towards Harry.

“I should get back to work.” Harry says and he gets up so fast that he bumps both his knees against the table; spilling half of his untouched tea on the wood. A few curses of choice leave his mouth as he tries to sponge the most of it with his apron. And yeah, Louis might not be the brightest crayon in the box but he can recognize it when someone’s trying to run away from him. He puts his hand over Harry’s, effectively stopping all movement.

“I shouldn’t have kept it from you. I’m sorry.” He says once he’s managed to catch Harry’s eyes and he hopes the sincerity of his apology is made obvious by his tone because he doesn’t know any other way to get it across

“I’m going out of town for a few days.” Harry declares. “Niall’s brother is getting married on Saturday and Niall’s throwing his stag night tomorrow so… yeah, I won’t be back before late on Monday, I think.”

“Are you Niall’s date then?” Louis jokes. There’s no humour in his voice, though.

“Liam’s invited too.”

“Are we okay, Harry?” Louis has to ask because he’s just learned that he won’t see Harry for four days and he can’t go four days without knowing what to expect now that Harry is aware Haley’s existence.

“I can’t pretend to be okay with you lying to me, Louis.” Harry sighs. And yeah, alright, Louis gets it. “But the fact that you have a girlfriend doesn’t really affect me or our friendship so yeah, I guess we’re okay.”

 

Louis leaves the café as soon as Harry's back in the kitchen with Emily, his tea and muffin long forgotten on the table. He notices the question in Jade's eyes as he pushes the door open but he doesn't say anything, just waves his goodbye and steps out into the street. The day has only just started and he already feels so emotionally drained that he's not sure he'll get through the day without the inevitable breakdown lurking over his head like a Damocles Sword ready to drop at any time. That said, he doubts the day can get any worse at this point. He needs something to look forward to, he thinks, to give him the strength to go through the insufferable hours left before he can just crawl into bed and hope to not wake up until next Tuesday. It's with that thought in mind that he takes his phone out, goes straight to the end of his contacts and calls Zayn. He wants to get hammered tonight, maybe even needs it to be honest. He wants to forget, not about his life or the people in his life but about who he's become. He's pretty sure he hates who he is today and so he hopes it's not who he'll be in the long run. He doesn't want to be a lying coward for the rest of his life; couldn't look at himself if he were to turn out like his father.

"He's alive! Alive!" Zayn laughs into the phone but Louis doesn’t even smile, tries to remember the last time he spoke to Zayn instead. It’s been thirteen days since they talked and twenty since they hung out. It’s just another flaw to add to his ever-growing list, another regret too. He breaks promises, even the ones he makes to himself.

"Yes, he is and he needs to get properly pissed."

There’s a minute of silence on the other side of the line and Louis wonders if he’s killed Zayn somehow. He reckons being responsible for his best friend’s date will be worse than upsetting both Haley and Harry in just a matter of hours. And he just remembered Zayn has early classes on Fridays so he’s already trying to come up with ways to convince him a few beers won’t really affect his academic prowess.

"The Alibi?" Zayn says instead. And Louis thinks he must have sensed the despair transpiring through his every pore or something because he’s never agreed to a night of pure debauchery so quickly. But he won’t complain.

"I'll meet you there at eight."

"You can make it six, even."

He’s pretty sure Haley said she’d be home early today so he can probably get her to pick up Emma too. And if she seems reluctant, he’ll remind her how thrilled their daughter is whenever she gets to spend time with her mother.

"I love you."

"Show me how much by paying for my beers tonight.”

"Dream on, Malik."

He might pay for the first couple of rounds anyway, probably. He owes Zayn that much, he guesses.

"I knew you didn't really love me."

"I'm just trying to tone it down, babe. Don’t want your girlfriend to hate me before she even got to meet me.”

The truth is Louis doesn’t know if the girl Zayn is still seeing that girl he talked about all those weeks ago, isn’t even sure he ever was seeing her to be honest. He’s been so focused on his problems that he’s forgotten to ask his friends about their lives when he saw them. He’s a liar, a coward and a self-centred jerk. Lovely.

"Amy's not my girlfriend." Zayn mumbles and he sounds like a child who has just been denied a candy, which confirms to Louis that the girl’s still around and that Zayn’s still undeniably very fond of her. And because he is still Louis Tomlinson, he can not let it go to waste.

"Zayn, honey, you just have to send her a Facebook request to make it official."

"Alright, I'm hanging up now."

And he does, not even bothering to wait for Louis’ witty comeback but Louis isn’t sure he would have had one anyway so it’s alright.

             

            Louis has never thought a bruise could cause so many different reactions. First, there was his colleagues’ that went from knowing smirks when he took off his scarf to very crude jokes every time he walked by. They were obnoxious and loud and Louis was reminded of why he never hangs out with any of them. The students reacted the way Harry predicted, boys whistled and girls blushed. He started each and every one of his periods telling the kids that yes, it was a love bite on his neck but that no, he was not a whore for having a love bite on his neck. He sort of insisted on the fact that it was done by his girlfriend of three years just to remind them that sex, all kind of sex, should not be taken lightly and especially not at their young age. He was still called in the principal’s office to hear all about what being a teacher means and how to be a good role model. It was all done with humour and the shared knowledge that it’s sometimes impossible to keep a significant other from marking their territory. These are the principle’s words, not Louis. Regardless of the fact that everyone’s attention seems to gravitate towards him, the rest of Louis’ day doesn’t go all that bad. And he convinced Stan to come down and go on a binge with him. And it’s not that Louis doesn’t trust Zayn to get properly hammered with him but more that he actually knows Zayn won’t get properly hammered with him because he knows his limits when it comes to alcohol and he doesn’t try push them, ever, and especially not on a week night. Plus, Stan just got back from wherever he was overseas and it was as good a reason as any to give Haley when he explained why he was going out on a Thursday night. She didn’t argue with him, didn’t try to talk him out of it. She just told him to have a good time and if she sounded more defeated than she should have, Louis might have ignored it.

The last of his students have finally left the locker room so he decides to have a quick shower himself before changing out of his jogging pants. He winces as he takes his knee-brace off, allowing his knee to throb rather painfully. He overdid it on the field today, he knows. He knew it when he was running to show the kids on defence how to dodge a nasty attacker and then he shot a goal multiple times to get the best angle. But he doesn’t mind the pain right now. He sort of embraces it even. It gives him something to focus on other than the mess he calls his life. He stands under the lukewarm water until his legs are just too exhausted to hold him up and even then he takes his time to wash off the soap and steps out of the small cubicle to sit on the cold metal bench. He knows the school is mostly empty at this hour of the day so he doesn’t really look around before dropping the towel to put on his briefs. But he should have.

"Nice arse."

Louis spins around so fast that he’s not sure how he’s surprised he didn’t snap his neck in the process, somehow. And here stands Stan. He hasn’t changed much in the weeks he’s been away, Louis notices. He leans against the lockers like he owns the place and he has his damn trademark smirk placated on his face. Louis has always hated this stupid smirk of his. He puts the towel back around his waist hastily, completely aware of the fact that his best friend has had the time to get a good look at his dick but is hardly concerned about it. It wouldn’t be the first time anyway. 

"Fuck, Stan! You almost gave me a heart attack!" Louis exclaims with a hand on his erratic heart for emphasis. He wriggles his way into his briefs without taking the towel off. Stan might have seen him naked more often than Haley herself but he’s not an exhibitionist. It’s not a kink of his to be naked in the presence of others.

"It's not my fault if you aren't more aware of your surroundings, mate."

"You're not supposed to be here!"

"And you're not supposed to be naked."

Fair point. He’ll be sure to check that he’s truly alone the next time he’ll decide to change in the locker room after hours. He’s too tired to start a banter right now, feels like his legs are about to give out and he really needs to put the knee brace back. He sighs, dramatically heavily, and sits back down. He has a feeling they’re going to do a lot of standing tonight so he tightens the superficial support as much as he can without hurting himself. He’d hate to have his leg cut off. And it’d put a real damper to his P.E teacher career.

"Weren't we supposed to meet at the pub anyway?" He asks once he’s satisfied with the hold of the band on his fucked up articulation.

"Didn’t want you to feel like a cheap date." Stan shrugs simply. And Louis knows there’s more to his presence here than just a sudden desire to pick him up but he won’t push the subject now, knows he will tell him everything sooner rather than later. He’ll most probably let the real reason slip after a couple of drinks.

"I require at least three different cocktails if you want me to put out."

"It'll be worth the price."

Louis laughs and throws the towel at his face, aiming so perfectly that it stays perched on top of his head until he rips it off. And Louis can't help but double over with laughter as he sees the look on sheer disgust on Stan's face. It's going to be a great night, Louis thinks.

 

            Louis is only slightly buzzed when Zayn finally arrives at the pub and thus in spite of the fact that he is over an hour late on their original plan. He can’t find it in himself to be bothered by his friend’s very bad habit tonight; partly because he remembered to text him an apologetic warning and partly because he actually made it this time around. And so he does pay for his first beer and maybe the second too, he’s not completely sure. Stan pays for the third. Stan has paid for all of Louis’ drinks so far, which aren’t too many yet but still costs a pretty amount of money considering the place they are at. The pub’s too crowded for Louis’ liking, too noisy. He can barely hear what Zayn and Stan are talking about, has to lean over the table to catch at least half the words. And yeah, it might be due to the fact that he’s hard of hearing but he’s going to pretend that’s not it because he needs something to complain about. It keeps all other negative thoughts at bay. Zayn is asking Stan about his internship now, which was in France apparently, and it’s too serious a subject for Louis at the moment so he turns his attention off. He should probably ask the questions himself, if only because he really wants to be a better friend to both Zayn and Stan. He’ll do it. He’ll ask more questions, just not tonight. He doesn’t listen but he watches and he sees the glint in Stan’s eyes as he talks. He wonders if he ever has the same glint in his eyes. He might, he thinks, when he talks about Emma. She’s the light of his life, as cliché as it sounds, so it’d be logical. But Emma’s not the first name that comes to his mind when he tries to think of what or who might bring this light in his eyes. Harry’s is. He never talks about Harry, mostly because he has no one to talk about Harry with outside of Harry’s friends, but he’s pretty sure the things he feels would be made obvious if he as much as mentions his name. He must have dwell on this for longer than he realized because his glass is empty when he brings it to his lips again. It was at least half full when he last took notice of it.

“I’m going for a refill.” Stan says at the same time Louis realizes his friends’ glasses are empty too. He has half a mind to give him a few bills to pay for this round but he’s already gone by the time he motivates himself enough to grab his wallet. So he shrugs and focuses on Zayn. There’s a very small smile on his face as he glances at his phone, right before he goes to reply to whomever it was who texted him. Louis thinks he might have a pretty good idea of who his friend is writing to.

“Say hi to your girlfriend for me, will you?”

“I already told you, Amy’s not my girlfriend.”

“And I already made it clear that I don’t believe you.” Louis says. “The way you talk about her makes it painfully obvious that you like her very much.”

“I don’t do relationships, you know that.”

“Yes, I do know that. And I never really got why you are so against commitments but I get it even less now that you actually like someone.”

“I don’t want to end up like you, alright?” Zayn bellows. To say Louis is taken aback by the sudden admission would be an understatement. He might not like his current situation all that much but he doesn’t see what’s so bad about it that he’d drive his friend away from starting a relationship with someone he likes.

“Do you remember how happy you were when you first moved to Manchester? You were always so positive, always smiling and laughing. And I thought you were faking it most of the time. I didn’t want to believe anyone could be that happy all the time. But you were. You genuinely were that happy.” Zayn says, his voice a lot quieter than before. Louis thinks he should say that he’s just not as exuberant as he was back then but that he’s still happy, really. Except he’s not sure he’d be saying the truth and he feels like now is not a time for lies. “You’re not happy anymore, Louis. You might not want to admit it but everyone around you sees it. Everyone can see you’re miserable with Haley, you don’t love her and you’re only staying with her because of Emma.”

“I can’t just get up and leave the mother of my child, can I?”

“You wouldn’t be the first. Or the last.” 

Louis doesn’t answer because there is nothing to say. Zayn’s right, of course. He wouldn’t be with Haley if it weren’t for Emma; that much appears to be clear to everyone in his life. And he’s not completely happy with her, although he’s really not miserable either. But he’s supported his mum through two divorces. These were rough times for him and it caused more damages than he allowed others to see. He won’t do this to Emma, won’t hurt her like that. And while he neither resents nor blames his mum for leaving his father and Mark, he refuses to recreate the same scenario. 

“This is the last round I pay for!” Stan announces when he comes back with three full pints. It isn’t the last round he pays for.

 

            Zayn calls it a night shortly after their short chat. He pretends it’s because of his early class, he doesn’t want to be half-asleep for it, but Louis feels the tension and uneasiness that radiate off of him when they hug goodbye. He knows Zayn doesn’t regret confronting him with a difficult truth, if only because Zayn never regrets anything, but he must have realized the night was Louis’ way to escape the unhappiness so now he feels bad for bringing it up. Stan decides they should move to another pub then. He’s not big on the suffocating crowd either. They go to the same pub where they used to get hammered back in their first year at Manchester University. The place is a dump, really. It has always been. The lights are too dim to see anything further than the other side of a table and the lingering smell of sweat is sickening but it’s cheap enough for students to get hammered without having to skip meals for weeks. And it’s familiar to Louis. It reminds him of the life he used to have, the life he sometimes wishes he still had. The walk to the new place has sobered him up enough that he’s still only slightly buzzed and he hates that he can’t even get properly hammered anymore. He used to be so good at getting drunk out of his mind. He reckons that’s a talent he should probably not be proud of but still; he misses it as much as he misses his youth. He frowns when he hears the vibration of his phone against the back of his chair because there are only four people who text him and he can’t imagine any of them texting him at this hour. Well, Stan might but he’s still in the pub, just off to use the loo. And even if curiosity really did kill the cat it is still not enough to stop Louis surrendering to it. He grins at the sight of Harry’s name and opens the message.

_Roaming around with the guys and wishing you were here too. Thought you should know. Xx_

Louis is quite certain that he’d have to split his face in two parts if he wanted to smile bigger than he does now. He’s about to reply that he’s out with his friends too and wishes he could be there too when Stan comes back and eyes him suspiciously. He sighs and puts his phone back in his jacket, hoping he’ll remember to text back the next time he’ll be alone.

“So are you going to tell me what’s up with you?”

Louis chokes on his own saliva. Stan has never been one to pry. As a future psychologist he’s learned to never force people to acknowledge their issues before they’re ready to word them. Louis knows the problem, though. He’s fully aware of the questions running through his mind and of the feelings pooling in his stomach uncomfortably. And he thinks that, maybe, it’s time for him to talk about it. He wants to talk about it.

“I sort of am rethinking my whole life lately.” Louis confides. “I often feel like everyone in my life wants me to be someone different. Haley wants me to be the perfect boyfriend she pictured growing up while Zayn wants me to be the happy partier I was when we first met. My students expect me to be some sort of cool teacher who remembers what it feels to be young while my mum wants me to be a mature grown-up. And I try so hard to meet everyone’s expectation that I… I think I got lost somewhere along the way.”

“We’re all strangers to ourselves, Tommo. We all go through times when nothing about ourselves make sense anymore and it’s okay to question everything because the only thing that’s certain about life is that we are constantly changing. Our strengths, our weaknesses, our feelings or even our goals… it all changes every day.”

There’s a long silence after Stan’s answer that Louis uses to let the words sink in. He holds almost no resemblance to the young boy he was when he first moved to Manchester, he knows that, but he hasn’t taken the time to identify the changes. He doesn’t recognize himself anymore but it might not be because he lost sight of himself. Maybe he just hasn’t found who he is yet.

“Is there a particular reason for you to be searching yourself now?” Stan asks with a small smirk that Louis would qualify as a ‘knowing smirk’ if there were any way for Stan to know anything. He considers lying for a minute but decides to tell the truth instead. He wants to know if the light appears in his eyes when he mentions his friend’s name and knows he’ll be able to see it on Stan’s face if it does. Also, he might need some advices about the whole thing with Harry soon and Stan will be his first choice when the time will arrive.

“Yeah, his name’s Harry.” He says tentatively. He doesn’t even blink as he waits for Stan’s reaction. He looks a bit shocked at first but Louis can’t really hold it against him. He’d be quite shocked too if his very straight best friend had just told him he’s questioning everything he’s ever thought and known because of a guy. And then he’s smiling again; the one-sided smile that lets Louis know there’s a glint in his eyes. He’s not too sure about what to do with this piece of information.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am still on tumblr at mustbe-themusic.tumblr.com if you want to talk to me or read bits of the next chapter :p  
> And let me know what you thought of chapter 4? ;)


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thanks to all of you who read the previous chapters & still decided to come back for more this week. And a very special thanks to Bookbee again because comments are to me what petrol is to a car. 
> 
> Special warnings for this chapter: mentions of homophobia, bullying and violence.

It’s been a fairly long time since Louis has had the opportunity to sleep in while being in his own bed. To his and Haley’s despair, Emma has learned quite early in her life that she could get away with waking up an entire household to entertain her and she has absolutely no remorse in doing so. So he’s a little confused when he wakes up and realizes that he slept most of the morning away. His first instinct is to panic. He imagines about a hundred scenarios to explain Emma’s  
surprising silence in the space of two seconds and none of them have good endings. But then he sees that Haley’s missing too and he thinks that she might have found a way to keep their daughter downstairs but then he’d probably hear.

He reckons they might have gone out, to have breakfast in town or something along those lines. Haley makes a real effort to spend more time with Emma on weekends. She’s even talked about going on a girl only trip sometime, possibly make it a regular thing. And that’s the reason why neither of his girls are around, he remembers now. They left in the early hours of the morning, maybe even before sunrise, and won’t be back until late at night on Sunday. He has the whole weekend for himself, two full days to do whatever he wants to do. And what he really wants to do is to hang out with Harry.

A month ago, Louis would have texted Harry without the shadow of a second thought and he would have initiated a night out instead of simply asked about his plan. But things were different a month ago. Harry was different a month ago. The changes aren’t very obvious but Louis sees them anyway because he has mastered in the study of one Harry Styles over the past three months. He sees how Harry seems more reserved, distant. He notices when he trails off in the middle of a sentence or pushes his chair further away from Louis’ or refrains from touching him. Louis would be an idiot if he didn’t consider that these changes were somehow linked to Harry knowing about Haley. He could pretend that it’s just a coincidence, that there’s absolutely no reason for Harry to act differently just because he has a girlfriend but there doesn’t seem to be any other explanation. Louis has thought about asking Niall or Liam about Ireland, try to see if something happened there that could explain Harry’s new behaviour, but he hasn’t seen them in quite some time. Harry stopped asking him to tag along on their nights out; that too might have something to do with it.

Louis eventually decides to surprise Harry with an outdoor lunch. Emily’s out of town, catering a wedding or something, so he’s fairly certain Harry will be so hard at work that he won’t take a break unless someone forces him to. He makes scraps sandwiches with what’s left in the fridge and puts a bottle of homemade iced tea in a cool-bag along with a couple of beers. They have never been out of the café in plain daylight before so he wants the first time to be as perfect as possible. He might be hoping it’ll make Harry want to do it again. There’s a park halfway between the café and the school where they could meet up during the week. He’d like that, he thinks. It’s not just that he’d like to see Harry more often; it’s that he’d like to do more stuff with Harry. He wants to hang around the park with him and go to the cinema with him and take him out for dinner. And he tried to pretend that it’s the sort of things he’d do with Stan and Zayn if he had the time so it’s not strange for him to want to do them with Harry too. But then he imagines holding Harry’s hand as they watch Emma and Ronnie play on the slide, imagines kissing him hello after a long day at work and falling asleep in his arms. He's never had these sort of thoughts about any of his friends before, girls or boys, and it scares him a little.

 

The café is packed when Louis gets there, as it usually is on weekends. Louis is usually very happy to see that Emily’s business is working so well and that Harry’s pastries attract so many people but today he’s just a little worried it’ll compromise his plan to take Harry away for a little while. Michael looks a little overwhelmed and panicked whenever he takes a glance at the queue. There’s no way Harry will accept to leave the place in the hands of someone who looks like he’s just about to lose it. So Louis wonders how out of order it’d be to have a picnic in the middle of the café. They can’t really set up camp in the middle of the main room and he’s too aware of the sanitary rules to even considerate the kitchen an option. They could go upstairs, maybe. It should be easier to convince Harry to take a break if he doesn’t have to leave Michael on his own. And his apartment is close enough so that he can be there in seconds if needed but still separated enough from the café that they can pretend they’re elsewhere. He’s quite confident in his argumentation, knows Harry won’t be able to counter it. So it’s with this confidence that he cuts the queue and heads straight for the kitchen. He hardly notices Michael’s dark look now that he’s gotten used to it. The boy has done nothing but give him grief since he’s started hanging around Harry. If Louis didn’t know better he’d say Michael is jealous of his friendship with Harry but he has no reason to be, really. Harry has some sort of brotherly love for Michael that can’t compare to whatever he has with Louis. But riling people up is always fun anyway so Louis flashes his brightest grin in Michael’s general direction before pushing the door of the kitchen open. Only to have it fall when he doesn’t see Harry there, only Jade putting a tray in the oven. He slips out before she can see him, suddenly not in the mood for meaningless conversation. He doesn’t even glance at Michael when he makes his way to the staircase leading to Harry’s flat, quite certain he’d find a satisfied smirk on his face if he did. He tries to remember if Harry mentioned having the day off but it only serves to remind him that Harry doesn’t really share this kind of information with him these days. He knocks but doesn’t wait for an answer before stepping in. Harry is nowhere to be seen but Niall is sitting on the couch, grinning like a damn Cheshire cat.

"Louis! I almost didn't recognize you in plain daylight!" Niall greets, his trademark grin lighting his whole face.

"Niall! I almost didn't recognize you sober!" Louis jokes with a small smile of his own and Niall literally shakes with laughter at the mildly offensive comeback.

"What makes you think he's sober?"

Louis takes his eyes off of Niall to look at Harry who is leaning against the doorframe of his bedroom, arms crossed over his very naked chest. Louis thinks all the air in his lungs might have evaporated because he sure feels out of breath. Niall cackles again, the sound even louder than before. Louis is ready to bet his paycheck that he is literally rolling on the floor but he's not willing to look away from Harry long enough to see if he's right.

"I think he's ingested too much alcohol and is now in a permanent state of drunkenness." Harry sighs sadly and adds a dramatic shake of his head to emphasis the mock concern. And Louis shakes his head too but he does it in the hope of stopping the untamed thoughts floating around his head at the sight of Harry’s chest. He wonders how rude it’d be to ask him to cover up in his own flat.

"It might just be the Leprechaun blood in his veins." Louis theorises with fake excitement that might not be completely fake because he knows Harry loves to rile Niall up with his Irish roots. And Niall finds everything extremely hilarious so he doesn’t really mind about it. Louis thinks he might not really mind about anything sometimes.

"Do you think Leprechauns are bordering hysterics?”

“They have to be mental to only wear green.”

“Niall looks good in green. It goes well with his skin completion.”

Louis tries to ignore the pang of jealousy he feels at the idea of Harry looking at Niall closely enough to say if a colour suits his skin completion or not. And he’s been friends with Niall for years, which means he’s had plenty of time to notice what looked good on him and what didn’t. And Niall’s straight anyway. But then again so is he.

“Does he keep his change in a pot?”

“He has a jar full of coins on a shelf.”

“Has he ever granted one of your wishes?”

Harry’s smile gets exponentially bigger at the question and Louis wonders what kind of wishes he’s thinking about exactly.

“I think you’re right, Lou. I’m friend with a Leprechaun.”

“Alright, I’m leaving before you try to see if I’m a redhead.” Niall grins as he gets up, grabbing a guitar case that Louis failed to notice before. He’s beaming on his way to the door and Louis finds himself wondering how it feels to be happy all the time. He used to know the answer but he’s forgotten now and he envies Niall for remembering.

“Try to not throw up on the judges!” Harry yells after him with a giant smirk, his dimples in full display. And Louis thinks it really should not be allowed for his face to be all cute and fairly innocent when he’s hiding such a body under his clothes. But it’s another thought he shakes off.

“Where is he off to exactly?”

“He’s auditioning for X-Factor.”

“Didn’t he already try last year?”

“Sixth time the charm.” Harry says before disappearing into the bedroom again. Louis considers following him but decides against when he starts to imagine him stripping out of his jeans.  “What are you doing here, by the way?” Harry asks just as he reappears with a shirt on. Louis is pretty sure Harry would see the disappointment on his face if he looked close enough so he really hopes he won’t.    

“I’m here to kidnap you.” Louis says with a one-shoulder shrug. He’s doing his best to be casual about it because he knows what he’s about to propose sounds a lot like a date but he sort of hopes Harry won’t catch up on it just yet. “I thought we could go to the park for lunch. I’ve made chicken sandwiches.” 

“Sounds good.”

 

Jade literally pushes them out of the door when Harry tells her about Louis’ idea of going to the park and she has one of those cheeky grins on her face when she tells them to enjoy themselves. She believes they’re going on an impromptu date, Louis knows. She’ll probably grill Harry to have all the details when he gets back to work. And if Louis imagines him telling her about how they kissed for the first time under a beautiful tree, it is nobody’s business but his. They talk about nothing in particular on the way to the park but their hands keep brushing against each other. Louis finds himself picturing Harry’s hand in his then. He imagines pressing the flat of his hands against Harry’s, imagines how perfectly Harry’s long fingers would fit in the space between his. He can’t help but look down at the space between their body and he sees Harry’s fingers curling around emptiness. He wonders if Harry is thinking about holding his hand too. But then they arrive at the park and find the perfect spot under a tree so Harry walks a little ahead of him to install their plaid. They’re talking about nothing in particular while they eat, share their prognostic on Niall’s chances of being picked up this year and compare drunken antics. There are birds chirping above their heads and kids laughing a little further down and squirrels discreetly running around the tree and it’s all very, very nice. It could be a scene in a movie, Louis thinks, the perfect first date of the main characters. Harry lies down on the plaid once he’s done with his sandwich, one arm tucked under his head to act as a pillow and the other resting on his covered stomach. Louis’ eyes linger on the ship inked on Harry’s upper arm and it takes all of his will to not reach out to touch it. He wonders if there’s a meaning behind it and if it’s a story that Harry will share with him. He moves his gaze to the tattoos on his wrist; the shamrock first then the lock and finally the ‘I can’t change’. He can’t help it this time and reaches out to tentatively trace the words with his fingertip. A small smile makes its way to his lips when he notices the goosebumps on Harry’s skin.

“There were some kids at school who thought they could beat the gay out of me so they made it their duty to try every day of the week, sometimes even more than once. They were always so careful to not hit any part I couldn’t cover with clothes that it went on for weeks without anyone noticing it. It’s Gemma who realized something was wrong with me. She thought I was hurting myself so she confronted me, forced me to take my shirt off. I have never heard my mum curse as much as she did that day.”

Harry trails off to take in a shaky breath while Louis draws random patterns on the back of his hand. He can see it all in his head. He sees a young and fragile Harry taking these guys’ punches in silence, sees his upper body covered with cuts and marks. He imagines the horrified looks on Gemma and Anne’s faces when he finally showed them.

“My mum went to the headmaster the next day but he didn’t do anything and I ended up with two broken ribs.” Harry continues. “I was so scared of everyone by then that I didn’t want to tell the cops what had happened but my mum… she didn’t want the kids to get away with it so she explained everything. But they couldn’t do shit to help me so they advised her to send me to another school. Three months later I was moving in the flat above the café and I got this tattooed as a reminder of why I had to get away from home.”

Louis finds it hard not to cry as more images of a broken Harry make their way to the front of his imagination and he doesn’t think he could handle the sight of his tears so he doesn’t look up. He gives in to the urge and slips his hand in Harry’s instead, intertwining their fingers and squeezing lightly. He keeps his eyes on their joined hands while he waits for his heart to slow down and for his emotion to be kept at bay again. They fit perfectly together. And he doesn’t want to let go, ever.

 

So they keep their hands locked together and it feels like forever to Louis but it’s still not long enough. Harry lets go of him eventually and his eyes follow the hand to where it pushes against closed eyelids. He sees the dried tears staining his rosy cheeks, a single teardrop stuck where his dimple would usually be. The pain is so evident on his usually joyful features that Louis could kiss him right then and there if he thought it could take it away. But he can’t. So he moves to lie next to him instead, props his head up with one hand and reaches out to rest the other against Harry’s cheeks. He softly brushes the tears stains with his thumb until Harry opens his eyes and they’re staring right back at him with an emotion that he can’t quite pinpoint. He’s reminded of the movies again, thinks the moment would fit perfectly in a romantic comedy, and he can see the scene unravel in his head. He’d glance down at Harry’s lips now, all pink and inviting. Maybe Harry would see it, maybe he would lick his lips to tease him. So he would lean down and push his own lips against Harry’s. And they would kiss softly, slowly. They would smile against each other’s mouth and the viewers would scream _“Fucking finally!”_ at the screen. And it would be perfect because everything about them is perfect. They are not in a movie, though. And Louis has too many things left to sort through before he can allow himself to be with Harry. He hasn’t found the words to put on what he feels for Harry yet. He doesn’t even know what he wants from him yet. But his gaze drops to his mouth anyway and his lips look as inviting as he thought they were. He feels himself getting closer before he can comprehend what he’s doing. And then music fills the air and only the fact that Harry is sitting up makes Louis realize that his phone is ringing.

“Niall got through to the next step.” Harry says once his phone placed back into his pocket. Louis can hear the pride in his voice. He’s pretty sure he’s beaming too but all he can only see the back of his head right now so he will never know. He tries to imagine Niall as a X-Factor contestant. He’s never really watched the show so he doesn’t really know what’s going on behind the camera but he’s pretty sure Niall will have to reduce his alcohol and food consumption as well as learn how to dance. He’ll have to look at YouTube later, see if he can find videos of the time Harry and Niall made it through to the third stage of the competition. The thought hits him like a million bricks in the face. He almost forgot Harry met Niall at the judges’ house years ago. He almost forgot Harry loved to sing, which might be explained by the fact that he’s never heard him sing. 

“Did you ever try to audition again?” He asks even though he already knows the answer. Niall is always trying to convince him to go to auditions with him, telling him they’d have better chances at getting through as a duo, but Harry is adamant in his desire to avoid the spotlight. So it’s no surprise when Harry shakes his head, his curls bouncing in all directions.

“I don’t think I would be a right fit.”

“I think you’d be perfect. I mean, you have that cheeky persona going on for you and you’re really cute too, caring and funny…” Harry looks over his shoulder at that one, raising an eyebrow while a small grin tugs at the corner of his lips and Louis has to laugh because yeah, maybe funny isn’t a word that goes well with Harry.

“What makes you think I can sing anyway?”

Louis could tell him about Liam’s habit to brag about his undiscovered talent whenever he has the chance or of Niall’s drunken admission of envying his voice or of the pride in Emily’s eyes when she talks about him singing to Paul to make his worst days that little bit better. But he doesn’t because it wouldn’t make a difference to Harry. It wouldn’t convince him that he does, in fact, have some sort of talent. He’d just blame it on his friends being biased. But coincidentally enough, that’s when he notices the man sitting a few feet from them or more specifically the worn-out guitar next to him. He doesn’t waste a second to go over to him with a very wide smirk on his face.

“Excuse me, sir. Can I borrow your guitar for a minute? I promise I’m not going to steal it or anything, I just need to know if my friend over there is as good a singer as I think he is.”

And the man looks at him like he’s just grown a second head or something at first and then he shrugs, handing the guitar to Louis who quickly thanks him before making his way back to Harry. The younger man is staring at him with a frown that almost makes him look mean but not quite because his face is too pretty for that. So he hands the guitar over to Harry when he reaches him, holds it at arm’s length while his friend just keeps on staring at him.

“You’re crazy if you think I’m going to sing in the middle of a park.”  

“The guy’s going to think I lied to him in order to steal his guitar if you don’t. And he’s looking quite buff.”

“Just bring it back to him then.”

“I can’t. He scares me.” 

“Alright, I’ll bring it back myself.” Harry sighs and gets up to grab the guitar. Louis tries to ignore the jolt of electricity coursing up his spine as their fingers brush lightly. He doesn’t let go, though. He wants to hear Harry sing now and he will get what he wants for once.

“Please, pretty please with a cherry on top?” Louis says with an undertone of whining and pouting. He’s mildly aware of the fact that a pout might look cute on a kid’s face but it’s just plain ridiculous on a grown-up man. But he can see Harry slowly giving in to his demand so he keeps it up until he sits back down. He grins as he watches Harry tune in the guitar to play whatever song he decided on. Harry motions for him to sit down too so he does, bringing his arms around his knees to relieve his back.

_I feel locked away with the weight of the world on my shoulders_

_Crushing on my head are boulders made of lies and dust from all of us._

_What of the bonds we’ve made that have started to fade_

_We can’t control the time but right now I’ll take what I can get out of life_

Louis feels like all the air has been punched out of his lungs and he can’t remember how to fill them again. Harry’s voice is even more beautiful than he thought it’d be. It’s rough and deep and filled with so much emotion.

_I never said that I didn’t need you_

_Put down your arms and wrap them both right around me._

“I knew you were great.” Louis whispers once Harry’s done with the song and looking at him with expectant eyes. And the grin that appears on his face, denting his cheeks with those damn dimples, is worth more than gold to Louis. Harry pushes his arse off of the floor again and brings the guitar back to the man. Louis watches them talk, wonders if the stranger heard him and is now telling him the same thing that none of his friends are able to make him believe.

“I was thinking…”

“Don’t hurt yourself.” Harry jokes as he drops next to him on the blanket and Louis grabs the crust of his sandwich to throw it at him. He can’t help but laugh when it hit him square on the forehead even though the glare on Harry’s face is enough to make his knees shake a little. 

“We should go out tonight. Celebrate Niall’s successful day.” He resumes. “I’ll call Stan and Zayn, see if they want to tag along.”

“Niall already has plans for tonight. Some sort of big ass party in Liam’s building, I think. I didn’t really listen to them when they told me about it.”

Louis feels his heart sink to the bottom of his stomach as he realizes that Harry will most probably go to the party with his friends and is not even considering the possibility of Louis coming with him. 

“But I’d love to meet your friends.”

 

Harry has to go back to work eventually and Louis has to organize their night out so they decide to part ways for the rest of the afternoon. And Louis isn’t really okay with not being with Harry for a few hours but he puts this realization at the back of his mind for now. He has things to do, or more precisely he has friends to convince to have a pint with him and his new friend in spite of the very last minute call. He’s not even sure either of them will be free tonight but he better not waste a second. He pulls his phone out as soon as he’s out of the café and dials Stan’s number first. He’s pretty easy to persuade, really. All he has to say is that he feels like it is time for him to meet Harry, the famous new friend for whom he has nothing but platonic feelings. Zayn, on the other hand, isn’t as easy to charm. The more Louis insists, the more tired Zayn becomes. And Louis is quite certain that it is all just an act, that Zayn isn’t really tired but just not in the mood for a night out. Or maybe he doesn’t want to meet Harry. But he’s given hope to the curly head and he refuses to take it away from him. But most of all, he doesn’t want him to think he’s not important enough to be introduced to all of his friends, or the two who really matter, at least. He’s already going to have a hard time explaining why he will most probably never get to meet Haley without having to tell him all about the confusion that has taken over his life since they’ve met. Luckily for all of them he’s quite good at compromising and he gets Zayn to agree for a quiet night in at his apartment, just the four of them. It’s not what he had in mind for the night but it might not be such a bad thing either. He already has a hard time controlling himself when he’s sober. He doesn’t want to know what he could do when drunk. Actually, he already has a pretty good idea of what he could do if Harry’s birthday party is anything to go by. He texts Harry that he will be picking him up at eight sharp to head over to Zayn’s for a couple of beers. He doesn’t want to go home after that. The train ride isn’t the most enjoyable and he’ll have to be back in town in just a couple of hours anyway. He thinks about going back to the café but he doesn’t want to appear clingy so he walks around, does a bit of shopping for himself and Emma before getting some greasy food even though he isn’t really hungry. It’s quarter past seven by the time he’s out of things to do and it takes approximately fifteen minutes to walk to Harry’s from the shopping centre. He’d only be about half an hour early, which sounds reasonable enough. He stops by the toilets to make sure he doesn’t have food stains all over his face and starts his journey to the café.

The only way to the apartment is through the café, which might cause problems when the café’s closed for the night and Harry conveniently decides to turn his phone off. So Louis would have been reduced to throwing rocks against Harry’s window if he didn’t know where to find the backdoor’s spare key. He makes sure nobody’s around to see before grabbing it. He even makes sure to lock the door again once he’s inside. He doesn’t want to be responsible of a burglary, especially not of Emily’s café. He makes his way upstairs as quietly as he can to not scare Harry and have him swing a baseball bat at his head. There has been so many clichés so far today that he wouldn’t be surprised if Harry actually owned a baseball bat. So he knocks before stepping in and calls Harry’s name as he walks further in, just to be on the safe side. He stops abruptly when he takes in the state of the place. It looks like a tornado has hit the building, except it only devastated Harry’s living room.

“Good, you’re here!” Harry says as he steps out of his bedroom, unperturbed by the fact that Louis has made it all the way to his flat without him coming down to open the door. “Which one looks better?” He asks, holding a white long-sleeved shirt that Louis is pretty sure will be quite see-through and a worn-out black Ramones’ t-shirt that looks a little too small to fit Harry.

“Are you going to tell me what happened here?” Louis asks instead of answering, gesturing at the consequences of the unknown but most probably not natural disaster that shook the whole place up.

“I couldn’t decide what to wear.”

“We’re going to see my mates, Curly. Not the Royal family.” 

“They’re your best friends and their opinion matters a lot to you, I presume. So from where I stand… well, meeting them is way more frightening than meeting the Queen herself.”

“You’re the most loveable person to have ever walked the Earth, Harry. They’re going to love you. Probably even more than they love me.”

But it doesn’t really matter what they think of Harry, Louis realizes. It won’t change how he feels for Harry. He can’t put names on his feelings yet, and maybe it’s just because he’s just not ready but he knows that this is the deepest and the purest he’s ever felt for someone. He really isn’t sure anything could change it at that point.

“Right but… I’d still like to look good, you know?”

“You’d look amazing even if you were wearing a plastic bag, Curly.” Louis laughs to cover up the fact that he really does believe Harry would look great in pretty much anything. “But I prefer the white top, I think.”

Louis smiles when Harry throws the black shirt on top of a messy pile to slip on the white one. And it turns out that it isn’t as see-through as it looked at first sight but it clings to Harry’s curves so perfectly that Louis can’t find it in himself to complain about the false hope. 

 

If there’s one thing Louis has learned so far this evening it is that he finds it really hard to say no to Harry. It’s quite concerning, really, that it didn’t take much more than puppy eyes and pouty lips to convince him to take the bus. He hates public transportation. He’d much rather walk all the way to the other side of town. It might have his knee throbbing in pain for a couple of hours but it gives him the sentiment of freedom that has been lacking from all other aspects of his life lately and he thinks that’s a good enough reason to suck it up. Harry doesn’t mind a long stroll across town, he knows. He’s just so worried about making a good impression tonight that he doesn’t want to be a sweaty mess when he’ll meet the guys. And while he appreciates the art of being fashionably late, he’d rather be on time to meet his executors. They are Harry’s exact words too so obviously Louis couldn’t deny him the bus ride. The journey takes forever, or he feels like it’s taking forever at least. They have one too many connections and he’s pretty sure they’d actually have gotten to Zayn’s faster by foot. And if his aversion for public transportation weren’t enough to drive him crazy, Harry’s nervous habit of bouncing his leg up and down would definitely do the trick. He has enough of it. He doesn’t think twice before putting his hand on Harry’s thigh. He doesn’t do anything more, doesn’t squeeze or soothe. And he rests it there a moment too long for it to be considered friendly. He hears Harry take in a shaky breath before he feels the warmth of his hand against his. He turns his hand over, presses his palm against Harry’s and intertwines their fingers again. He can almost feel Harry’s eyes burning holes in his skin but he keeps his gaze focused on the window. He has reasons to believe he doesn’t really want to see the look on his face right now. He’s not ready to know if the way he feels is reciprocated.

Stan’s already there when they finally arrive at Zayn’s and Harry is adamant to apologize for being late when they really aren’t. Louis still doesn’t understand why he’s so eager to impress Stan and Zayn but he’s starting to find it quite endearing. It only takes two beers for Harry to loosen up and his awkwardness to dissipate. And it turns out Harry’s really into arts too. He doesn’t have as much knowledge as Zayn, of course, but he’s just as passionate and their conversation gets a little heated at some points. Louis tunes them out after a few minutes. Arts have never been his forte; neither is feigning interest in a subject he doesn’t understand. So he retreats to the kitchen under the pretence of getting them fresh beers. Zayn’s kitchen is more of a cupboard than anything, really. Zayn has never bothered with putting a table or chairs, there’s barely even enough space for the usual furniture as it is. So Louis sits on the tiles for a moment, his back straight against the fridge. And he welcomes the coldness that surrounds him, uses it to soothe the burn he feels when he’s near Harry, when their thighs are pressed together or their shoulders are bumping against each other. He shouldn’t be feeling these things. It doesn’t make sense for him to feel something he doesn’t even believe in. He takes a swig at the beer to drown these thoughts away. Stan joins him then, sits next to him on the floor and steals his bottle.

“Harry’s a great guy.” Stan says simply. And there’s a small smile tugging at the corner of Louis’ lips. He never doubted that his friends would like Harry but he did think it’d take time for them to appreciate him fully. “And he seems to make you happy.”

Louis thinks about denying it, thinks about saying Harry has nothing to do with his happiness. But he doesn’t because it’d be a lie. He leans his head against the door of the fridge wishing the ice cold inside of it could just freeze his brain too. He hears footsteps then and he doesn’t need to look up to know Harry has just walked in; just like he doesn’t need to open his eyes to know that he is currently staring at him. It’s quite weird, how he can just sense Harry’s presence and feel his eyes on him.

“Are you keeping the beers hostage or something?” Harry jokes with a clear light. He sounds happy. Louis can’t resist any longer. He opens his eyes to see Harry beaming, his dimples on full display. He looks happy too, happier than he looked these past few weeks.

“Yes, I am. And I will not release them until you promise to stop talking about all this shit I don’t understand a thing about.”

“Well, keep them then.” Harry shrugs. “Zayn and I will find something to drink at the party.”

Louis’ smirk drops from his face, quickly replaced by a surprised frown. He glances at Stan to see the same feeling written all over his features.

“Rewind and repeat, please?”

“Zayn and I will find something to drink at the party.”

“I heard it right the first time then.” Louis mutters. He spent the best part of an hour talking Zayn into letting them crash at his flat because he didn’t want to go out and now he wants to go out. It doesn’t make any sense. Louis groans at the thought because nonsense seems to be a trend in his life lately.

“You’ll have to excuse Louis. He doesn’t take changes very well, especially when they’re as important as Zayn going outside.” Stan jokes just when Zayn joins them in the kitchen. He’s changed outfit, Louis notices, cleaned up nicely.  

“Come on now! I’m not as big a recluse as you make me out to be!”

Louis really wants to know what Harry told Zayn but he doesn’t have time to grill him now. Zayn changed his mind once already; he might change it again. 

“Alright, let’s go.”  

 

The party is simply sensational; all five floors of Liam’s building have joined forces to make it the biggest and greatest party ever hosted in a students’ house. There are way too many people for it to be safe and everyone seems to be drunk or high or even both at the same time. Louis doesn’t drink more than a couple of beers and passes on the joints offered to him by strangers without as much as a drag. And it’s not that he doesn’t want to because he does. There’s nothing more he wants more than to put enough fog around his brain that it will just shut off for a few hours. He isn’t even scared of what could happen if he did or of the consequences of what could happen. But as much as he wants to either get high or drunk or maybe even both, he wants Harry to make it home safe and sound even more. Harry had already downed quite a few beers when they left Zayn’s apartment and he attacked the liquor straight at their arrival to Liam’s so he was pretty much gone within the hour. Louis has been clinging to him like a baby koala to its mother, except with a lot less actual clinging. He just makes sure to keep an eye on him and stay close enough to drag him away whenever it’s needed. He tries to keep track of Stan too. He has had a fair amount of shots too and, while he is nowhere near Harry’s state of inebriety, he could land himself in some sort of trouble quite easily. He considers himself lucky that Zayn decided to abandon them all in order to find Amy. He shouldn’t be surprised, really, that she’s the reason why Zayn agreed to come here. If he had known Danielle was a very good friend of Zayn’s crush, he would have used it to his advantage. But he’s proud of Harry for succeeding where he failed miserably.

A faint light started to creep in the night sky by the time Louis manages to drag a very drunk Harry back to his apartment. He’s exhausted, wants nothing more than to plop down on Harry’s couch and sleep the rest of the day away. But he has to tug Harry in first. The guy’s an eloquent drunk, Louis has learned. He just can’t stop talking about one thing or another. He even makes sense most of the time, which surprises Louis. But as talkative as he is, Harry is absolutely no help when it comes to getting him ready for bed. Louis really does wonder how in the name of all that is good Harry manages to squeeze into such tight jeans because he has a fair lot of trouble getting him out of them. He allows his eyes to linger on the younger boy’s body. He wants to reach out and touch him but he doesn’t. He can’t. He’d feel like he’s taking advantage of him. And he probably would be too. So he just covers him with the duvet. Harry grabs his wrist then, his hold weak but there.

“Stay with me?”

And Louis knows he shouldn’t. He should keep up with the initial plan and just move to the couch. But he can’t resist Harry, not when he’s looking at him with those big green eyes of him. So he lies over the duvet, next to him. It takes all he’s got to not take him in his arms and card his fingers through those curls. Harry rolls on his side and tugs on his arm until he does the same. Louis is surprised by the intensity in Harry’s eyes. He looks a lot more sober than just minutes ago.   

“I think I might be falling in love with you.” Harry confesses. “And I tried to stop it, you know? I thought I could control the way I feel about you by keeping you at arm’s length but it’s hurting more than it’s helping. I would have waited for you, you know? If I had thought there was the tiniest chance for you to love me back, I would have waited for you.”

Louis closes his eyes then. He can’t look at Harry anymore. He just can’t see the hurt on his every feature anymore, not when he knows he’s the reason why it’s there in the first place. And he could take it all away, he knows. All he has to do is give Harry the tiniest bit of hope he’s asking for, tell him that he might actually be falling in love with him too. But he can’t tell him, not now, not when he’s still so confused by everything. He can’t ask Harry to wait for him when he doesn’t know how long it’ll take to get to him; when he doesn’t even know if he ever will.

“But I can’t wait forever, can I? It wouldn’t be fair to either of us.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be the longest chapter I have ever written in the history of ever... what did you think of it? Also, what do you all think of "Don't Let Me Go"? I can't stop listening to it and it's been days!!!
> 
> I'm still on tumblr: mustbe-themusic.tumblr.com


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So did you fear there would be no update this week? Well, be reassured cause new chapter is here!  
> But first, and as usual, a special thanks for the lovely comments goes to Bookbee, Koolshelby and Aja as well as IrishAddict on tumblr. I don't know you but I love you. Feedback helps motivating me so keep them coming, please :D

It’s been a week since Harry drunkenly confessed that he was falling in love with Louis; a week since Louis sneaked out of Harry’s apartment like the coward he is. He left because he needed time to process everything and, more importantly, to sort out the mess that was his own feelings. Harry was right when he said that he couldn’t just wait forever so Louis was determined to figure himself out fast. But he couldn’t figure anything out when Harry breathing the same air as him was enough to send him in a whirlwind of confusing emotions. So when he was asked to chaperone a school trip to Paris on Sunday evening, he didn’t hesitate before saying yes. It was all very last minute and Haley wasn’t very happy with him for shipping off unexpectedly but it was also extra money on his paycheck so she didn’t complain too much. To Louis, the trip was more of an opportunity to spend five days away from his life and its many complications than anything. He thought he could use this time to think about it all without distraction. And he did just that. The days were quite busy of course, there’s just so much to see in Paris, but the nights were all his and he spent them sitting on the carpeted floor of his hotel room, drinking Iced Tea straight from the bottle. And he thought back to everything that happened and everything he felt over the last four months.

So here he is now, ready to give Harry a reason to wait for him. He’s ready to tell him that he might be falling in love too. Except, he probably won’t use the word “love” because he’s not really sure he believes in such a thing yet and they’ve only known each other for a few months anyway. So maybe he’ll just say that he is really fond of him. He is undeniably and unmistakably very fond of Harry. There’s no “I might be” or “maybe I am” or “I think I am”. There’s only a simple and clear “I am”. And it’s okay. It’s a feeling he can deal with. But as ready as he is to tell Harry how he feels about him, he's not quite as ready to be with him yet. He has to sort his life out first. And then he'll have to be completely honest with Harry. He'll have to tell him about Emma and hope it won't change everything. But he's thinking too far ahead. All he has to do right now is share his feelings with Harry. He'll worry about the rest later. It's with a smile on his face that he walks into the café but it is with a frown, however, that he notices the table Harry usually reserves for them is currently occupied by a couple of teenagers Louis has seen around school. Harry is never late to anything. He deems it very disrespectful; thinks only self-centred jackasses would be late without any sort of excuse or warning. Louis can't remember the last time he checked his phone, though, maybe Harry texted him. He's about to check it when he hears Harry's rich laughter muffled by the distance and wooden door between them. He looks up at the staircase to see Harry stepping out of his apartment. The frown on Louis’ face deepens when he sees the man behind him. He’s quite certain that he has never seen the guy before and yet he looks strangely familiar somehow. His hair’s styled in a giant quiff, probably even bigger than Zayn’s back in the day, and his clothes are ridiculously flashy. And he looks older than Harry too, which isn’t really surprising since Harry likes to surround himself with kids and adults. But he forgets all about trying to remember where he’s seen the guy’s face before when he sees him reach for Harry’s hand and Harry stops in the middle of the staircase to turn to him. It all happens in slow motion after that, how the guy’s hand moves to Harry’s jaw, how his thumb brushes Harry’s lower lip and how he’s leaning down while Harry’s leaning up. Louis can’t watch this. He can’t. So he interrupts. He’s aiming for a discreet clearing of his throat but what comes out is more of an obnoxious cough or maybe a bark. But it doesn’t matter because it works. Harry’s spinning around faster than a ballerina during a recital and he might have hit his friend’s huge nose in the process but Louis doesn’t have time to laugh at it because he also almost falls off the staircase in the same process and Harry breaking his neck is not a pleasant idea.

“Louis, you’re back!” Harry exclaims once he’s fairly certain he won’t topple over and he sounds genuinely surprised but it doesn’t make any sense because Louis texted him that he was back on British soil the minute he was out of the phone-free zone at Manchester Airport. He replied even, said he already had a chocolate chip muffin waiting for him. Louis couldn’t drop by then, not with Haley coming to pick him up at the airport with Emma, but he promised to come get it the next day instead. So Harry knew he’d come here today and he forgot and it hurts like hell.   

"I don’t think you know Nick.” Harry says, letting go of the handrail to motion at the man behind him. Louis’ gaze shifts to the stranger then and a tight smile forces its way on his lips. He thinks he’d like to send real daggers with his eyes right now. “He’s the friend I told you about, the radio host? Well, he’s covering a gig in Manchester tonight so he’s crashing on my couch.”

Louis decides to not comment on the fact that there are pretty decent hotels all around Manchester, most with beds a lot more comfortable than Harry’s old bumpy couch. He can’t make his jealousy too obvious, not until he’s explained to Harry why he might always turn into a green monster at the sight of him with another man.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to cover their London show?” He asks instead.

“It would, yes, but the little shits think they are too indie to play London on their first UK tour.” Nick explains with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “And they also think they’re too cool to be waiting for a journalist so I better get going.” He adds with a quick glance at his watch before walking past Harry and down the last few steps separating him from the café’s main room.

“Put my real name on the pass this time, yeah?”

“You’ll never let it go, will you?”

“I will let it go when people will stop calling me Harry Dickarse.”  

“Will I be forgiven if I give my +1 to your boyfriend?”

The last word rings clearer than any of the previous ones. Louis frowns at Harry, who is blushing a deep red, and he realizes that he might not be the only one with secrets in this friendship. There’s a tiny part of him that thought he’d feel less guilty about keeping things from Harry if he knew Harry was keeping things from him but that tiny part of him was very wrong. He doesn’t feel any better; he feels worse. Harry has always been such an open book, he feels like he’s to blame for the sudden change.

“We’ll see you later, Nicholas.” Harry says as he pushes Nick out of the glass door, bumping into a couple of customers in the process. He waves at his friend’s fading form with the dorkiest grin ever before turning his attention back to Louis. “I hope you’re free tonight.”

“I feel like I’ve missed something.”

“Nick will write you down as his +1 tonight.” Harry clears out and he makes it sound like it’s the most obvious thing in the world when it really is not because Nick offered to give his +1 to Harry’s boyfriend and… oh. Louis has just realized that Nick meant him. “Liam and Danielle will be there too so you won’t be alone while I take shitty pictures of the bands.”

“It sounds great, Harry, but I already have plans for tonight.”

And Louis really doesn’t know why he’s just said that because all he has planned for tonight is watching TV with Haley until he gets tired of pretending he’s happy to be there with her and sleep the rest of the night away. So he’d much rather be with Harry but he can’t handle the thought of watching him with Nick all night. And he can’t really explain to Haley why he needs to get out of the house after having already spent five days away from it either.

“Right, of course, just forget I said anything, yeah?” Harry stutters and the hurt is so evident in his voice that Louis can feel his heart break into a million pieces. He hates to be the reason behind Harry’s sadness when he wants so desperately to be the reason behind his happiness. So he reaches out and grabs Harry’s hand. He can see Harry’s shoulders shake with his next intake of breath so he squeezes his hand a little tighter and Harry looks down at their laced fingers with a small frown.

“I have to go back to work now but I’ll remind Michael that your order is on me.” Harry murmurs once he’s shaken Louis’ hand off of him and Louis watches him retreat in the kitchen with watery eyes. He fucked up and Harry’s moving on now and there’s nothing he can do to stop him.

 

Louis doesn’t wait for his order to be ready to leave the café. He just can’t watch the smirk on Michael’s face any longer. He goes straight to the fun park where he has planned to meet up with Haley and Emma instead. He sees his girlfriend’s car parked in front of the main entrance along with a dozen other hybrids and knows it’s going to be a real quest to get to his girls among the crowd but he will use the time it’ll take him to find them to clear his mind of everything Harry related. It’s the image of Harry kissing Nick that he wants to get rid off the most. What makes it worse is that he knows he’s just made it easier for the radio host to try his luck with Harry. He wouldn’t be surprised if he walked in on them making out by the kitchen’s door tomorrow morning. And it kills him to think it could have been him. It could have been him kissing Harry in the middle of the café for everyone to see. It could have been him hugging him close at night and holding his hand in the streets. It could have been him but it will never be him now. He waited too long. He missed his chance. But for all the parts of him hating on the fact that he didn’t act sooner there is another part reminding him that he did the right thing. He could have fooled around with Harry all along, could have given him something to hold on to so he wouldn’t even consider giving up, but it wouldn’t have been fair on him. He could have realized there was nothing more than brotherly friendship between them instead of finally accepting there was so much more than that. And it could have hurt Harry even more. He couldn’t do anything before clearing the confusion in his mind and heart first. So his only regret should be that he didn’t figure it all out sooner; which he does. He regrets it very much. But Harry deserves to be happy and if Louis has to break his own heart for it to happen, he will do it without an ounce of hesitation.

If there’s anything in this world that can make Louis genuinely happy it’s to spend time with his daughter and Emma is doing an amazing job at cheering him up today. He’s always been a bit reluctant to spend a full day at a kids’ leisure park. There are always too many young children making way too much noise for his liking. But today, he takes it as a great distraction. He almost forgets all about his broken heart while he builds colourful towers with his girls. Almost being the key word there. There’s always a small voice in the back of his head reminding him that he lost the chance to be with Harry, that Harry will probably hook up with Nick tonight and then he’ll just forget all about him. He’ll be left pining over someone he could have had but can’t anymore. Harry’s gone weeks with a secret crush on him and now it’s his turn. He doesn’t fail to see the irony. And the voice gets louder when his daughter’s not pulling on his leg. It’s ringing clearer than ever now that he’s sitting on a giant Lego bench, his hand clasped around Haley’s as they watch Emma create some sort of zoo with other kids.

“What’s on your mind, pretty eyes?”

Haley’s voice breaks through Louis’ thoughts. He shakes his head to clear it from absolutely everything clouding it before focusing his attention on her.

“My lovely girlfriend, of course.” Louis replies with a small smile as he brings her hand to his lips and kisses the back of it. Haley laughs at him but she also gives him a look that clearly asks for the real answer to her question. And he knows her well enough to not expect her to let it go. But he can’t tell her the truth, not in its entirety at least.

“A friend of mine is photographing his first gig tonight, officially I mean, and it’s a pretty big deal for him…”

“Is it the friend you’ve been spending so much time with lately?” Haley cuts him off and Louis frowns. He didn’t think she’d noticed, believed she’d thought he was spending more time with Zayn. But he has no real reason to try and keep his friendship with Harry from her so he nods. “Then you should go and support him.”

That’s not the reaction Louis expected. Haley might encourage him to see his friends every once in a while but never on a night they’ve made plans for. And she’s never really been all that supportive of his nights out when they happened on a school night either. He’s not sure what to make of the change of heart yet.

“What about our movie night?”

“One should always be there for a friend that makes them as happy as you’ve been recently.” 

Haley will never cease to surprise him, Louis thinks. And for that alone he’d like to be able to tell her that Harry isn’t the only reason why he’s so much happier these days, that she’s playing a part in it too, but he’d be lying and he’s tired of lying to everyone he’s close to. He wants to put a stop to it all now.

“I already told him I couldn’t make it.”

“Well, call him and tell him you’ve changed your mind.”

“He’s probably asked someone else already.”

“Just buy your own ticket, you cheapskate!”

Haley’s laughing and Louis’ heart is stuttering. He should tell her everything now; let her know where she’s sending him; and to whom. He should be honest with her now, tell her he might be gay, or at the very least bisexual. He should tell her Harry’s the reason why he started questioning his sexuality; confess to her that he’s very fond of the curly haired baker and might even be falling in love with him. But he can’t do it now, not in the middle of a kids’ park and not with their daughter glancing at them every ten seconds. He will tell her everything soon but he’ll do it somewhere more private. And he’ll make sure there are no dangerous weapons around, just in case.  

“I don’t think I deserve you.” He murmurs with a weak smile but it’s another lie. He knows he doesn’t deserve her.

 

Louis doesn't call Harry, decides to surprise him instead. It isn't an easy task considering he doesn't know the band's name or the venue they're playing at. He doesn't even know Nick's last name to look for information on his radio's website, obviously he doesn't know the name of the radio either. He really ought to be asking more questions in the future. He thinks about calling Zayn to ask for Liam's number but he doesn't want to involve too many people, just in case his plan backfires and Harry has him escorted out of the venue. Or maybe he just doesn't want his friend to know how important it is for him to never upset Harry again. Either way, to call Liam isn't an option he actually has. It's Haley who comes up with the idea of looking up bands that refuse to play Expensive London. It doesn't happen very often, she reasons, so it has to have made some sort of news. And she's right. Their decision to not include London on their tour schedule has made quite some noise in the rock music scene. Louis doesn't know if they planned to get so much publicity with it but it certainly worked in their favour. He finds the venue in no time once he has the band's name and he's relieved to see the show isn't sold out. It’s been such a long while since he’s gone to a concert that he takes forever to get ready for it. There’s also the fact that he wants to look good for Harry. He’s come to the conclusion that today’s not the right time to talk about his feelings with Harry but he hopes showing up at the show will be enough to mend the broken parts of their friendship and if it does, if he gets a second chance at being romantically involved with Harry, then he can’t let him leave with Nick without putting up some sort of fight. So he puts on the tightest pair of black jeans he owns, knowing how much of an asset his arse is, and the dark blue shirt Harry bought for him a few weeks ago. He even styles his hair for once, tries to imitate Nick’s quiff for some reason. Haley jokes that he’s dressed to kill when he’s about to leave and he feels his heart clench painfully. He has to wait for the timing to be right, he knows, but he hates doing this to her. There’s already a fair crowd inside of the venue when he finally gets there so he can’t get anywhere close to the pit to let Harry know he’s made it after all. He’s a bit disappointed to see his plan fall through so quickly but he retreats to the back without complaints. He spots Liam and Danielle leaning against one side of the bar, whispering in each other’s ears with big smiles on their faces. He doesn’t fancy being a third wheel tonight but reckons Harry will join them once he’ll be done with the pictures so he walks in their direction. Danielle sees him first and waves at him with much enthusiasm.

“Harry didn’t tell us you were coming.” Danielle says as she pulls him in a tight hug and sways them a little. Louis likes Danielle. He can’t really see them being close friends in the future but she’s a very nice girl anyway. And she’s a great dancer too. She’ll go places.

“Yeah, he doesn’t know.” Louis laughs nervously. “I thought I wouldn’t be able to make it when he asked but I moved a few things around and here I am. I wanted to surprise him but I can’t get close to the stage.”

“That’s so very cute.” Danielle awes with a squeeze of Louis’ bicep, which leads to Liam rolling his eyes. And Louis is starting to realize that everyone around them knows there’s something deeper than a simple friendship between them.

“He’s only allowed in the pit for three songs. He’ll be here for the rest of the set.” Liam fills him in as the opening act steps onto the stage. Louis nods with a barely hidden grin before turning to the bartender to order himself a beer.

The first band isn’t really good. The lyrics are very lame and the singer’s voice is too shaky and weak to help forget them although the instruments are loud enough to cover it all up. So the first three songs seem to drag on and last about eternity. Louis seriously considers running to the toilets to escape the painfully loud noise they dare call music when he notices Harry making his way out of the unimpressed crowd. And he thinks he might have stopped breathing during the few seconds it takes Harry to reach them once he’s spotted him too. It’s only confirmed by the huff that escapes his tightly closed lips when Harry wraps his arms around him. The embrace is made awkward by the camera between them, the lens digging in Louis’ stomach and forcing him to step away sooner than he would have liked. But he doesn’t let go of Harry, not completely. He keeps a hold of his wrists, loose enough that Harry can shake him off if he wants to but tight enough for him to know it’s completely intentional.  

“I thought you couldn’t come!”

“Well, you thought wrong.”

“Your boyfriend’s cuter than mine and that’s not very fair.” Danielle sighs with a cute little pout directed at Liam and Louis can barely disguise his giddy smile at the fact that another of Harry’s friend has referred to him as his boyfriend. Harry, on the other hand, doesn’t look all that happy with his friends’ choice of words. “Yes, I know. You guys are not together. Whatever. I still don’t believe you.” She dismisses his glare with a wave of her hand.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Harry asks Louis once Danielle has turned her attention back to Liam. Louis is surprised by the lack of interaction between the three friends. He expected them to talk about Harry’s experience in the pit or his pictures. But he doesn’t question it out loud and just nods instead. He won’t let the opportunity of being alone with Harry pass him by. Harry beams at him then and holds his hand to lead him out. The guy at the door starts to tell them they won’t be allowed in again if they step out but just opens the door when Harry shows him the photo-pass attached to his belt. Louis feels a hint of pride at the sight of the official pass, knowing what it means for Harry to be given a chance to publicly show his skills. They end up sitting on the sidewalk, close enough that their sides are touching.

“Show me what you’ve got.” Louis says once he’s found a comfortable position on the concrete. Harry smirks down at him and wriggles his eyebrows in a very suggestive way; which makes Louis laugh loudly and unexpectedly. “I meant the photographs, you pervert!”

“They’re quite rubbish.” Harry warns him but hands the camera over anyway. Louis shakes his head because he wishes Harry could see how talented he is, let it be as a baker or as a photographer. He’s always only seeing the flaws in his work and Louis is ready to do anything to show him the qualities too. Louis doesn’t know much about photography but he finds Harry’s shots to be very good. There are a few blurry ones, of course, and some might need a bit of editing. But most are as close to perfection as they come. Harry managed to catch the lights at exactly the right moment, got the right angles of the musicians and singer.

“They’re amazing, Haz.” Louis assures as he gives the camera back to Harry, a small smile on his lips. He likes seeing the pink colouring Harry’s cheeks at his words, wishes he could keep it there forever somehow. He can’t help but think that now would be a good moment to tell Harry how he feels. But it’s not. Tonight is Harry’s night and he can’t be the one to taint it. He sees Harry lifting the camera up to his eye, ready to snap another picture of him, so he pulls a face.

“Of all the shots I took of you, there isn’t a single one where you’re not making a funny face.” Harry chuckles, looking at the picture on the LCD screen, and Louis grins because he made Harry laugh. He thinks it might be his second favourite sound in the entire world, right after Emma’s happy giggles.

“Well, I just want to look my best for you.”

“But this is the face I like best.” Harry whispers as he traces the crinkles at the corner of Louis’ eyes with his fingertips. The touch is soft, delicate. And it feels so intimate that Louis finds it hard to breathe. His eyes flick to Harry’s lips, so full, so inviting. It takes everything he has to not lean up and kiss him.

“Harry, I… There’s something I need to tell you.”

Harry hums in response but he doesn’t let go of Louis’ face, doesn’t stop stroking the skin by his eyes and mouth. Louis looks up to see Harry’s eyes are on his lips too and he feels his heartbeat speed up considerably. He fears his heart might burst out of his chest if they don’t kiss right now.

“Thank fuck, you’re here! Your services are required backstage so move your flat little bum off that dirty sidewalk!”  

The sound of Nick’s voice startles both Louis and Harry, effectively pulling them out of the moment they were sharing. The change of mood is made evident when Harry drops his hands off of Louis’ face and Louis slides his further from Harry’s on the sidewalk. And he thinks he could kill Nick right now. He definitely would if it weren’t for the risk of being imprisoned.

“I’ll be right there.” Harry answers sharply. Louis is too busy staring at the worn-out tips of his shoes to look up but he can hear Nick mumbling something that sounds like a lot like “ungrateful little prick”.  The door shuts closed soon after, leaving Harry and Louis alone again. But the moment has been ruined, stamped over by Nick’s great timing. Louis wonders if it is possible he was right behind the door, just waiting for the right moment to interrupt. He wouldn’t put it past the guy, really.

“Hold that thought for me.” Harry whispers into Louis’ ear before getting up and heading back inside. The security guard is calling for Louis to come back in too but he doesn’t move. He wants to stay out there for a bit longer and just think about what just happened, what almost happened. And it doesn’t matter if he’s not allowed to go back in. He’s got what he came here for: a second chance.

 

The band is already on stage when Louis finally makes his way back to the bar. And they must have played the first three songs too because Harry's standing next to Liam and Danielle. There's a grin on his lips and a light in his eyes and Louis can't help but smile too because there is nothing more beautiful than a genuinely happy Harry. But then he sees Nick. He sees Nick's fingers clench around Harry's waist as he pulls him closer, sees Nick's lips brush against Harry's ear as he speaks. He’s showing absolutely no respect to the notion of personal space. But Harry doesn’t seem to mind, not one bit. And Louis feels the blood boiling in his veins, burning his heart like fire. The feeling is painfully intense, a lot stronger than anything he’s ever felt before. It makes him want to punch Nick’s nose, hit him so hard that he won’t dare come near Harry ever again. But he won’t, he can’t, because as little as he likes it Nick is Harry’s friend and he could never do anything that would hurt Harry. But he knows what this feeling is. He hasn’t really felt it before but he recognizes it anyway. He’s blinded by jealousy. And he needs to control it if he doesn’t want to ruin what he has with Harry as well as what he could have with Harry soon. So he takes in a couple of deep breaths to calm himself down and collect his thoughts before walking over there. There’s nothing he’d want more than to stand next to Harry and lace their fingers together but he can’t bear the idea of being close to Nick too so he stops right next to Danielle instead, two bodies away from his friend. But he can feel Harry’s eyes on him and he can’t ignore it. Harry flips his thumb up with a big grin so he smiles too but it’s not quite reaching his eyes yet. Harry seems to be satisfied, though, as he turns his attention back to the band on stage. Louis likes the headliner a lot better than the support. It is obvious that they know what they’re doing, both as musicians and as entertainers. All five of the band members interact with the crowd to some extent, the singer more than the others but that’s to be expected. Their lyrics don’t just make sense; they are also pretty relatable. So Louis enjoys the music but he doesn’t enjoy himself, not at all. He just can’t focus on trying to have a good time when Nick’s constantly touching Harry. He doesn’t look at them, really, but he sees it anyway. He sees the firm grip Nick has on Harry’s waist and the trails Nick’s lips leave on Harry’s skin. But most of all, he sees how Harry isn’t even trying to stop him, how he doesn’t flinch at the most provocative touch. It’s like he expects them, waits for them. So Louis hates that he has to be here and witness their interaction. He hates it but he can’t leave. There’s an after-party in the rear of the show, Liam told him, and Harry’s going with Nick. He might have lost the battle already but he’s not ready to wave a white flag yet. He’s exhausted and his knee hurts from all the standing he’s still doing but he won’t go home before Harry. It shouldn’t be too hard to get invited to the party. He’ll just have to stick by Harry and Nick, pretend he wants to party like it’s the end of the world. He’ll do anything it’ll take to keep Harry from going home with Nick tonight. He’ll even go to work with steeped stinky clothes and bags under his eyes and possibly a hangover too. 

 

As it turns out the after-party isn’t much of a party but more of a small gathering with loads of beers and a little bit of pot too. Louis has declined the offer of illegal substances under the pretence of having to be clear enough to play football in the morning but he has the very strong intention to drown his misery in cheap beers. And he’s pretty sure he’ll end up a little high too anyway considering the tour bus doesn’t seem to be very well ventilated, really. He’s a little worried about Harry too. All the smoke surrounding them can’t be good for his asthmatic lungs. And if Nick cared about him half as much as he claims with every anecdote he’s sharing tonight, he wouldn’t allow him in such a fogged up aquarium. It takes all of Louis’ self-control to not pull him out of there; although it might not be just because of the weed polluting the atmosphere. Nick and Harry are sharing a tiny square of couch in front of him, giving Nick all the excuses necessary to touch Harry more than before. It started with his ankle locking with Harry’s and ended with his fingers curling around Harry’s thigh. Louis fears he might start groping him soon. And if that happens, well, he can’t promise he won’t vomit all over the back lounge. He might not even keep the food inside his stomach until the start of excessive PDA, actually. All it’ll take for him to give his dinner back is another one of Nick’s story involving a much younger person being mistaken for his kid or something just as flattering. He should probably consider hanging with people his age if he doesn’t want strangers to question his motives.

“Do you even have friends your age or at least close to your age?” Louis pipes in before Nick can finish another one of his rant, this time about a woman calling a certain Cara his daughter. There are a few laughs around the lounge but all Louis sees is the glare Harry sends his way.

“What can I say? Young people love me; which is a good thing considering they are my radio show’s targeted audience.”

“Is it that they like you or that they’re still too naïvely nice to tell you to piss off?” Louis snickers and Harry kicks him in the shin for that one but the blow is a little too soft to really hurt him. It would have been worth the pain, though, just to see Nick’s smirk fall off his face for one second. He might make it his mission to make that happen again. Come what may with Harry at this point. “Talking of nice kids, did you meet Harry when he was volunteering at the residential home?”

“I attended the same LGBT meetings as his mum and I guess she just liked me enough to introduce me to her son after a while."

“How cute!" Louis awes falsely. "Did Harry ever call you 'Uncle Nick' then?"

“Harry has called me a lot of things in the throes of passion but I don't recall ‘Uncle Nick’ ever being one of them.”

It’s not that Louis expected Harry to still be a virgin at twenty. It's just that he didn't expect Nick to be a former lover of his. It means they have a past together and Louis can't compete with history. But there is a very weak voice in his head reminding him that Nick has been trying to rile him up for hours now and giving him some sense of hope that it could be nothing more than a sick joke. He looks up at Harry and he can only imagine how much pleading his eyes are doing.

“We were together for like two days and it was like a lifetime ago." Harry laughs nervously and he flicks Nick’s ear, like he’s a dog needing a reminder that he’s not supposed to bark at the guest. "We knew we would never work as a couple so we decided to just be friends instead."

"Good friends make for better shags is what he means."

Louis feels like the air has just been punched out of his lungs and he can't remember how to fill them up again. He can't breathe anymore, fears it might hurt more if he does. He could have dealt with Nick being Harry's ex-boyfriend. It wouldn't have been easy but he would have gotten over it because the past is behind them all and they can’t do anything to change it. But Nick isn't just Harry's ex-boyfriend. He's also Harry's current friend with benefits. He’s always been the one Harry was going to go home with tonight. Louis could have told him everything earlier, he could have kissed him even, but it wouldn’t have changed anything. He couldn’t have kept Nick out of Harry’s bed because Nick already is in Harry’s bed. He was fighting a war he had absolutely no chance to win.

“If you’ll excuse me I think I need to puke now.” Louis says as he pushes himself off of the floor and stumbles out of the tour bus. He can’t believe he ever thought Harry could feel something for him. He should have known better than to think a drunken confession could hold any truth.  

"Louis, wait!" Harry calls out and it’s followed by a couple of colourful curses that lets Louis know Harry stumbled over his feet again. Bambi is still learning how to walk on those lanky legs of his, he thinks with a small smile.

"For what? You to start grinding against your so-called friend?"

"If you think I’m going to apologize for being sexually active you have another thing coming.”

But Louis doesn’t expect Harry to apologize for anything, let alone for having sex with someone other than him. It’d be sort of hypocritical of him considering he still sleeps with Haley every once in a while. The sex is not what bothers him the most. The fact that he believes Harry wanted to be with him is.

"You lied to me, Harry!” He says but what he means is “ _You leaded me on”_ and maybe a bit of _“You broke my heart”_ too _._

"I've never been anything but honest with you, Lou."

"Yeah? So you're not sleeping with Nick anymore?" Louis scoffs before resuming his walk, speeding up a little with the very faint hope of lose Harry. It doesn’t work. He can hear Harry’s footsteps behind him, getting closer fast because of his stupidly long legs.

“Why do you care who I'm sleeping with?"

And Louis can’t see him but he knows there’s a frown on his face just by the sound of his voice. He has every reason to question Louis’ interest in who he’ll be taking home tonight, especially now that he knows who Louis is going home to every day.

"Jump the next guy passing us by to see if I care."

Harry finally manages to grab his arm and stop him and he spins him around to face him. Louis tries to avoid his gaze then, knows he’ll see the truth in his eyes if he can have the shortest glimpse at them. He feels as vulnerable as ever under Harry’s scrutiny.

"You're not as good a liar as you think you are."

“I don’t give a flying fuck about who you’re banging, Harry.” Louis lies again but he holds Harry’s gaze this time because he has to get him to back off before he just breaks down in front of him. “Is that convincing enough for you?”

“Alright, yeah.” Harry gives in, letting go of Louis’ arms and lifting both hands in the hand. “Keep telling yourself that and go back to your perfect little life as a perfect little straight guy with a perfect little girlfriend.”

It’s a low blow, Louis thinks, but it has the merit of igniting a genuine reaction in Louis. He rushes back to where Harry has stopped and pushes him with all the strength he’s capable of. And he tries not to think about how tiny his hands look on Harry’s chest because he might falter if he starts to think about how defenceless being near Harry makes him feel.

“Don’t you fucking dare judge my life when you don’t know anything about it!” He shouts and Harry finally stumbles backward, his back hitting the brick wall of a decrepit building Louis hadn’t even noticed before now. He wonders how far from the bus they are now.

“Then tell me about it, Louis!”

“I don’t know who I am anymore, alright? Everything about me feels so wrong and it freaks me out and it’s all your fault!” Louis shrieks, his voice breaking at the end and his body failing to hold him upright any longer. So he lets go of Harry and sits on the concrete, bringing his knees up to bury his face in them. He wishes he could disappear. But he can’t. And he feels the tears burning his eyes, begging to be let go of, but he refuses to let them fall. So he closes his eyes to fight the pools behind his eyelids. It’s not like he can look at Harry anyway. But he can hear him and he can feel him and it’s too much. And a single tear escapes its prison but it doesn’t go very far before he feels Harry catching it with an always so tender touch. He rests his hand there, on Louis’ cheek, his thumb stroking the skin softly. Louis opens his eyes and Harry’s face is so close that it’s all a bit of a blur but he can still see his eyes clearly. What he sees in them could have taken his breath away if there was any air left in his lungs.

“I don’t want you to go home with Nick tonight.” He murmurs. “I want you to go home with me.”

And Harry’s just staring at him. He doesn’t move, doesn’t blink. He doesn’t inhale or exhale. He just stares. And Louis realizes that he fucked up. He went too far with this confession. And he wishes he could take it back but he can’t and he just lost Harry.

“I’m going to kiss you now.” Harry speaks slowly, the words dragging out more than usual. He cups Louis’ jaw with both hands and lifts his chin until he has no other option than to look at him. “You have five seconds to stop me.”

But Louis doesn’t stop him. And he doesn’t wait for the five seconds to be up either. Instead, he closes the short distance himself and pushes his lips against Harry’s. And it’s like everything’s frozen for a moment. He can’t move, can’t think. He can only feel. He feels his heart beating so frantically he fears it might implode. He feels the droplets that managed to leave his eyes, feels their saltiness on his lips and on Harry’s too. And then they’re kissing, their lips are shaped for each other so perfectly and they’re moving together smoothly. And it’s slow and it’s sweet and it’s perfect. And all Louis feels now is Harry, all of Harry, only Harry. And he can finally breathe again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, here it is... What did you think then? :D   
> The next chapter will pick up a few hours after the kiss so... where do you see things going? :p


	8. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll start off with an apology for not posting the chapter earlier this week. The kids I'm working with have been killing me and my motivation to stay up once they're asleep so it took me longer than usual to write. Sorry. 
> 
> Thanks still goes to Bookbee & Koolshelby for their comments and just-reading-1D & irishaddict for cheering me up on Tumblr that awful day I doubted ADL and considered giving up on it.
> 
> Feedbacks are my fuel so if you read & like this story, please fill me up. 
> 
> WARNING: Smut!!

Louis can’t say when their kisses turned from sweet to desperate or when their touches went from tender to insistent. And he can’t say when they moved from a dark corner in the street to Harry’s apartment either. He’s lost all notion of time and space because it doesn’t really matter anymore. All that matters right now is Harry. All he sees are Harry’s eyes, full of desire and want and lust. All he hears are Harry’s pants and moans. All he tastes is the beer on Harry’s tongue. All he smells is Harry’s aftershave and maybe his shampoo too. And all he feels are Harry’s hands on his back and Harry’s lips on his neck and Harry’s soft curls tickling the side of his face. He feels like Harry’s everywhere around him, on him, in him. And it’s too much. His lungs are burning up with each intake of breath and his skin is scorching under Harry’s fingertips. He thinks he might combust soon. The thought of self-combustion has just formed in his mind when Harry bites at the junction between his neck and his shoulder and he cries out but he doesn’t know if it’s in pain or in pleasure. A perfect mix of both, he thinks, but he doesn’t have time to analyze the feeling any further because Harry’s using both hands to hoist him up. He yelps in surprise but quickly gets the hint and wraps his legs around Harry’s waist and locks his hands on the back of his head for better support. He’s clinging to Harry like a baby koala would its mother and he feels ridiculous but he can’t find it in himself to care right now because Harry’s moving now, walking in the general direction of the bedroom. He’s reminded of that movie with Ryan Gosling, the one where an old man is reading a book to his sick wife every day, and the scene where Gosling carries his co-star up the stairs. Louis didn’t get the appeal before, didn’t understand how being carried in such a primitive way could be such a turn on to some. But he does now. He understands now that he’s experiencing it first hand. Each step brings their bodies closer and the friction on his dick is excruciating. He’s so painfully hard already and they haven’t even kicked their shoes off yet. Harry shoves him against the closed door as he holds him up with one arm only and he slips lower down Harry’s hips and he can feel Harry’s erection against his thigh. He can’t help the moan that escapes his mouth then, no more than he can help it when his head drops in the crook of Harry’s neck. Harry chuckles against his hair, puffs of air messing with his damp hair, and he can’t decide if he wants to kill him or kiss him. He doesn’t have much time to consider as Harry drops him and he bounces on the mattress, feeling rather ridiculous for a second there. The decision’s made for him then, he’ll kill him. It’s such a shame too because Harry’s a really good kisser. He wants to kiss him again. He’d like that more than to kill him, actually. He’ll go for kissing then. It’s a strain with Harry standing at the edge of the bed but he grabs both his hands to pull him down on top of him. Their lower bodies collide forcefully and it sort of hurts but it also feels so good. He doesn’t know which one wins right now. But the slight pain fades rather quickly while the pleasure stays, grows even, so yeah, it feeling good wins. So he bucks up, meets Harry halfway, and swears through gritted teeth. This might be the best he’s ever felt in bed and he still has all of his clothes on. His shirt is dampened with sweat and his jeans are too tight over his crotch and he needs to do something about it. He needs Harry to do something about it. But Harry won’t because he’s considerate like that. He won’t push him, he won’t do anything that could make him feel uncomfortable or pressured. That’s why he gave him a five seconds warning before kissing him. And why he’s done nothing more than kissing him. And alright, yeah, rutting against him too. But he’s pretty sure he started that one, albeit accidentally and unknowingly, so it doesn’t really count as Harry making the first move. He’s going to have to take a lot of first steps if he wants this thing with Harry to work out so he might as well starts with taking his clothes off. So he breaks the kiss with a pant and tugs at the hem of Harry’s t-shirt but Harry buries his face into the crook of his neck. And fuck if Louis doesn’t lose focus when he’s licking his sweat off the skin there. So he forgets about the t-shirt because he really doesn’t want to tear Harry’s lips away from any part of him right now. He moves his hands to his arse instead, caressing the swerve of it for a moment before pushing him down with intent. They both moan and search for more friction. Harry’s fingers are finally working on the buttons of his shirt and he’s kissing every square of skin he uncovers. And he tangles his fingers in his messy brown curls to keep him there even if he doesn’t know where there is anymore because he wants him everywhere. But he moves back to his mouth, slips his tongue in between his parted lips effortlessly. And Louis has never been big on French kissing. He’s always thought it was more gross than exciting, really. But Harry’s good at it. Harry’s better than good at it and he’s already made him change his mind about so many things he was so sure of that he really should not be surprised that he’s slowly changing his mind about playing tonsil hockey too.

“Harry, please!” He grunts into Harry’s mouth and he isn’t completely sure what he’s asking for but he’s just about to die from frustration so he really hopes Harry knows. He must, somehow, because he’s shrugging his shirt off of his shoulders and sending it flying somewhere. Louis doesn’t care to look where it landed, not when Harry’s straddling him and staring at him. He sits up, grabs the hem of his t-shirt again and throws it away too. He’s seen Harry shirtless before, of course he has, but this is different. He’s flushed and panting and Louis wants to kiss every bit of skin he can see, probably mark it too. He traces the love banner tattooed over his heart instead. He puts his hand flat against it and just feels Harry’s heartbeat for a moment. It’s really fast, almost as erratic as his own. “Please.” He repeats.

“Yeah. Alright, yeah.” Harry breathes out and Louis locks his hands behind his head to pull him down for another kiss. He makes it slow and sweet because it’s what he needs right now, just his lips slotting with Harry’s in that perfect way he could easily get used to. It’s hard to keep it that way, though, when Harry’s hand is travelling down his body and his fingers are popping the button of his jeans open. He lifts his arse off of the mattress for Harry to take his jeans off. He’s only in his briefs now, his highly tented briefs, and he feels over-exposed, thinks it’s not fair that Harry gets to keep his cock securely hidden. But then again, he can see the outlines of his erection and reckons it must be quite painful to keep it restrained so he’ll consider it payback enough for now. 

Harry climbs off of him then, sits on the edge of the bed while he rummages through the bedside’s drawer. Louis watches him for a moment, marvelling at the piece of art that is his back. He can’t resist as he kneels behind him and leaves kisses in the space between his shoulder blades. He stops when he sees what’s in Harry’s hand. And that’s how it hits him really; that’s how he realizes that he’s going to have sex with a man. The kisses and rutting and even the nakedness… well, it all made pretty clear that he was going to get laid tonight but it’s not all that different from what he knows from sex with girls. And yeah, alright, he used lube before, of course he did, but he never used it to… well, he doesn’t think he’s ready for that yet. Actually, he’s one hundred percent sure that he is not ready to go all the way yet. And he hopes Harry knows that somehow because he can’t bear the idea of disappointing him. So maybe he should have come home with Nick after all. And he might be about to tell him as much but he doesn’t even have time to open his mouth before Harry tackles him on the mattress. Smooth moves, he thinks, he didn’t see it coming.

“Stop me if I overstep the boundaries, yeah?” Harry murmurs against his lips and Louis just nods because he doesn’t trust his voice. They move about until they find a position that appears comfortable for them both. And he bends his knees enough to frame Harry’s hips and he rakes his hands over the whole of Harry’s back, feeling the muscles there as he strains his arms to stay up right. He never thought he’d like the feel of muscles under his fingers. But then again he never thought he’d like the feel of a cock pressing against his either. He doesn’t want to think anymore. He fears he might back out if he does. So he leans up and they’re kissing again, lips moving together like they’ve been doing so forever. He hears the distinct sound of a bottle being opened and he feels as nervous as the first time he had sex. Harry’s hand passes the waistband of his boxers then, his fingers closing over his length gently. And it’s cold but it’s good and Harry’s not moving yet but he’s fully hard again. All of his doubts and fears are forgotten for now.

He has to break away from the kiss when Harry starts moving his hand, his thumb playing with the head and spreading pre-come while he pumps as much as he can with the rest of his fingers. Louis bucks up desperately and he might be moaning Harry’s name too. He’s not sure, though, his ability to hear anything but the blood in his veins compromised by the rush of blood down south. Harry tries to catch his mouth for another bruising kiss but he offers the column of his neck instead, thinks he might pass out if Harry snogs him right now and that would be very embarrassing.

“Harry, I’m… not gonna… Fuck!” Louis groans when Harry flicks his wrist just the right way. He’s always known Harry’s hands were magical, even before he’d properly met him, but he’s never expected him to be that good with them. He knows exactly what to do and when. And maybe it’s not that surprising after all.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you.”   

The words coupled with a tight squeeze on his cock have Louis coming with a moan and Harry’s name on his lips. Harry pumps him through his orgasm, trails soft kisses along his jaw before capturing his lips again. Louis doesn’t kiss him back, not really. He’s too breathless, too boneless. It might not be the best orgasm he’s ever had, it was just a handjob after all, but he’s a lot more satisfied by this than by full-on sex with girls. Harry rolls on his side and grabs a box of wet wipes from the same drawer as before. Louis reaches out for them, ready to clean himself up, but Harry shushes his hand away to clear his skin of the white strikes. He whines quietly when he runs the tissue over his sensitive length. Harry bends to suck a love bite on his hip and Louis isn’t sure how he’s not breaking his back right now but the question vanishes as soon as he comes back up to peck his lips and he feels his erection twitch. So he snakes a hand between their bodies and gropes the impressive bulge through the hard material of his jeans.

“It’s okay. I’m okay.” Harry sighs as he rolls on his side, taking Louis’ hand off of him and lacing their fingers to keep him from going back. And Louis wants to argue because he knows how unpleasant and uncomfortable he must be right now but Harry’s nudging him closer, fitting him against his side and running the hand that isn’t holding his through his damp hair. And alright then, he’ll return the favour later.

 

A couple of hours have passed when the sun streaming through the thick curtain of Harry’s bedroom wakes Louis up. He’s a bit disoriented at first, not quite sure of what he’s doing in Harry’s bed, with Harry’s arm tightly wrapped around his middle and Harry’s chest sticking to his back. But then it all comes back to him, from kissing Harry in a dark alley to falling asleep in Harry’s arms. He smiles at the rush of memories and laces his fingers through Harry’s over his stomach. He doesn’t regret what happened, couldn’t, if his life depended on it. He just wishes it had happened differently. He wishes they had waited. He wishes they had taken the time to talk. There are so many things he needs to sort out, so many things he needs to discuss with Harry. He should have told Harry about Emma back when they were sitting on that sidewalk outside the venue. He wanted to, was about to. And he would have, he thinks, if Nick hadn’t interrupted him. He shouldn’t have let things go this far, not before he’d been completely honest with Harry. He’s pulled out of his thought by a buzzing noise coming from somewhere in the room and Harry groaning against his hair. He just waits for a moment, realizes Harry’s not going to wake up and carefully disentangles himself from Harry’s tight hold. He follows the noise to the bundle of clothes at the end of Harry’s bed, finds his phone in the back pocket of his jeans. His heart stops when he sees Haley’s name and picture flashing on the screen. He forgot. Last night and now too… he just forgot about her, forgot she was still his girlfriend. He’s an asshole. And he needs to answer his phone. So he scrambles out of bed and trips out of the room, careful to close the door behind him.

“I’m so sorry, Hals!” He starts. He doesn’t know what he’s apologizing for exactly, if it’s for not telling her he was spending the night at Harry’s or for forgetting all about her until just seconds ago and maybe it’s for cheating on her. It might be both, actually. “There was an after-party in the band’s bus and I drank a little too much so I crashed at my mate’s and… I should have at least texted you, I’m sorry.”   

“It’s fine, Louis.” Haley assures. “It’s just I woke up and you weren’t there so I wanted to check on you before getting too worried.”

“I’m really sorry, Hals.”

And this time he knows what he’s apologizing for. He’s sorry that he cheated on her. He still doesn’t regret anything that happened last night, except maybe how he’s been an arse to Harry and his friend, but he’s sorry it happened while he was still dating her. And he knows he should tell her, break things off and hope Harry will still want him once he’ll know about Emma. But he can’t do it now, not like that. Haley deserves better than to be dumped over the phone.

“Do you want me to bring you some fresh-smelling clothes?” She asks and he can hear the smile in her voice and it feels like a knife in his heart even though he’s the one who just betrayed her in what could be the worst way possible. He looks down at his soiled briefs. He can’t go to work with these on. But he can’t face her either, not yet. He needs to make sense of everything that happened over the last few weeks before he can tell her about it. He has to know what he’ll tell her and how. He’ll end things with her no matter what but he has to be careful. He can’t take the risk to lose Emma too.

“It’s okay. I’ll just borrow something from Harry.”

“Alright, I’ll see you tonight then.”

Louis doesn’t say anything back but he waits for her to hang up first anyway. He turns his phone off once she did because he just can’t deal with the outside world right now. He can’t even deal with the world inside his head right now. He leans against the closed door and closes his eyes, taking in a few deep breaths. He’s gone and done it, the one thing he promised himself he’d never do. He cheated on his girlfriend. There is no legitimate way to pretend it didn’t mean anything this time. Harry touched him in ways that a simple friend wouldn’t. Harry jerked him off and he loved every minute of it. He came from Harry’s hand on his dick, from Harry’s lips on his skin. And he still doesn’t regret it but he doesn’t know what to do about it now. He wants to be with Harry, that much is clear to him, but there’s still so much he needs to work out. He’s still not sure to know the best way to define his sexuality and, while he’s sort of at peace with it now, Harry might not understand it. He might not understand why Louis is fine with everything being a blur. And he doesn’t know what will happen when he’ll have put a word on it but he needs to make sure it won’t hurt Emma. He can’t bear the idea of doing his daughter any wrong. And if being with Harry, if being gay, can stir trouble for her he’d rather stay miserable. He can’t do this anymore. He can’t figure everything out on his own. He walks back into the bedroom and smiles fondly at the sight of Harry sprawled across the mattress. He’s doing this for him too, he reasons. So he tiptoes around the room, picks his clothes from the floor and steals a clean pair of boxers that’s folded on Harry’s desk. He kneels next to the bed, by Harry’s head, and moves a few curls to plant a kiss on his forehead. And he hopes he will understand why he had to go.

 

It takes about an hour and a half for Louis to get to Doncaster from Manchester so he knows it won’t be a problem if he parks his car behind his mother’s in the driveway, all the girls being at school already. He called in sick at work, blamed the cold rain with a half laugh. It only worked because a couple of kids from the trip called in sick too. He wonders if they really got home sick or if they’re pretending too. But he doesn’t dwell on it; he has more important matters to think about. He stares at the house for a moment. It’s not the house he grew up in, his mum and Mark decided to sell it and split the profit when they got divorced, but it feels like home anyway. This medium sized house he doesn’t even have a bedroom in feels more like a home than anything he’s ever had in Manchester. And maybe that’s why he came here even though he really shouldn’t have, not on a school day at least. It will only serve to get his mum worried about him and that’s the last thing he wants or needs. So maybe he should turn back. She clearly hasn’t seen his car yet or she would have run out of the house already. But he can’t go back without at least attempting to sort some stuff out. He might be an adult and a parent himself but he still needs his mum. He needs to know that she will love him no matter what; that she’ll support him if he really is gay and in love with Harry. And maybe he also needs to know that she won’t hate him for being his father’s son, for making the same mistake his father made before him and for ruining his relationship with Haley the same way his father ruined his marriage with her. Maybe then he’ll be able to believe that everything will turn out fine even if he can’t really see how. So he takes in a deep breath and steps out of the car. He feels heavy as he walks up the path, like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. And maybe he is, kind of. He knocks on the door because this is not his home, not anymore, no matter how much it feels like it. He hears her hurried footsteps and smiles the most genuine smile he can muster. The look on her face when she opens the door and sees him is the only one he wants to see directed at him. She’s beaming and pulling him in for a hug and he holds her tight, burying his face in her shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” Johannah asks and the smile is still present in her voice so he knows she doesn’t mind having him here; not that he thought she would anyway. So he pulls away a little, looks at her with an eyebrow raised and a smirk.

“What, aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Of course, baby, always. It’s just that I’m surprised to see you here on a school day, you know?”

Louis does know, of course. He expected her to question his presence here, knew she’d start worrying about him as soon as she’d see him on the doorstep. So he wishes he could give her all the right answers but he can’t because he doesn’t have them.  

“I missed you and the girls so much.”

“And we missed you too, sweetheart, but I don’t believe you’d miss a day of work just to see us.”

“Can we pretend I would, just for a bit? I promise to tell you everything later, just not right now. I can’t, not yet. I’m sorry.”

He watches her as she considers his demand, can almost see the cogs turning in her head as she wonders if she should push it or let it go. And then she sighs and moves out of the doorway so he can step in. He follows her to the kitchen and sits at the long table while she puts water to boil. He’s almost forgotten she thinks tea is the answer to everything. He’s always wondered if she believed tea could stop wars too but never dared to ask her.

“So how’s my princess doing?” Johannah speaks eventually, letting him know she will let the subject go for now. He’s thankful for that. He really is. But he wonders how much time he’s got before she asks again.

“She’s great, growing up way too fast.”

“Wait till she starts school.”  

“Don’t remind me, please.” Louis whines dramatically because he just feels so old when he thinks about his baby girl growing up. He thinks about how his mum must feel. She’s not exactly an old lady and she still has young kids at home but she also has a granddaughter and it must be weird, really, to think your youngest daughters aren’t much older than your granddaughter.

“How’s Haley?”

“She’s fine. She managed to reduce her hours at work so she gets to spend more time at home. She’s a lot less tired now and Emma’s happy to have her around so it’s all working out great.”

“Yeah, Stan mentioned something about you getting out the house more often.”

“I’m sure he did.”

Louis knows Stan drops by the house sometimes, to have a cup of tea and gossip with his mother. He used to think it was weird that his best mate and his mother were getting along so well but now he’s just glad that someone’s here for his mum and sisters. He trusts Stan to not make a move on his mother.

“He might have mentioned a new friend too.” Johannah adds with a small smile as she puts a mug in front of him and takes the seat opposite his at the table. And Louis laughs because of course Stan told her about Harry. He’s seen with his own two eyes just how important Harry is to him so he must have thought he had already talked about him with her, or mentioned him at the very least.

“Are you using Stan to keep track on me?”

“I sure can’t count on you to update me.”

Louis doesn’t retort, just smiles apologetically. He knows that she’s right. He’s always been completely open with her, sharing things a son should probably not share with his mother, but he has been keeping her out of the loop lately. He tried to keep their conversations light-hearted, preferring internal monologues to emotional discussions. It obviously didn’t work very well for him so he might want to change his tactics now. He doesn’t know where to start, what to say, but he reckons he should just rip all the band-aids at once.

“I’m not in love with Haley.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been.”

“I know.”

“I’m scared to lose Emma if I leave her.”

Johannah doesn’t say anything in response to this but he feels her eyes on him. He doesn’t know what she’s looking for exactly but it’s starting to make him feel uncomfortable.

“I can’t tell you what to do, Louis. It has to be your choice but what I can tell you is that everyone deserves to know what it feels like to love someone and to be loved in return. You deserve to experience a love so unconditional that it’ll make your head turn, baby, and Haley’s never going to give you that.”

“You’re right. I know you’re right. It’s just… The twins weren’t much older than Emma is now when you divorced Mark and I remember how lost they were, how confused. Lottie and Fizz weren’t doing much better, really. They called me every night and they cried over the phone, asking me what they’d done wrong.” Louis recalls, squeezing his mum’s hands tight because he knows the memories are hurting her too. “I don’t blame you, just so you know. And neither do the girls. It’s just… I don’t want my daughter to go through what we’ve been through.”

“I know, baby.” Johannah smiles sadly and Louis realizes that he never took time to see the divorce through her eyes. He never cared to know how she felt about it, not really. He supported her, took care of her, but he didn’t ask what made her cry at night. “I am really proud of you for always thinking about Emma first, I am, but you can’t ignore your feelings forever. You can’t sacrifice your happiness for what you think will make Emma happy, Louis. You’ll end up resenting her for it.”

And there’s something in her voice that lets Louis know she put more thoughts into her breakups than she ever let on. She’s gone through everything he’s going through, twice even. She’s had the same thoughts and fears than him. And she walked away. She’s braver and stronger than he gave her credit for. He’s not sure he can say the same about himself.

 

They finish their tea in a comfortable silence and move to the bumpy old couch where they cuddle to watch TV and only talk to comment about whatever crap is on. She runs a hand through his hair and scrapes his scalp every so often, knowing it has always had a soothing effect on his troubled mind. She makes him a chicken and peanut butter sandwich for lunch because she remembers it used to be his comfort food. And it’s disgusting, which is probably why he stopped making them years ago, but he ate it all anyway. His mum has to work in the afternoon. She tries to switch her shift with a colleague’s to stay with him but it’s all very last minute so no one’s available. He assures that he’ll be fine on his own and it’s only for a couple of hours anyway, the girls coming home straight after school on Mondays. He tells her to take his car, partly because he can’t be bothered to move it out of the way and mostly because he wants the girls to be surprised when they’ll see him in the living room. She tries to argue because she’ll get off work late and doesn’t want him to be stuck here but he assures her that he was going to spend the night on the couch anyway. And it’s only half a lie, really. He didn’t think he’d be staying when he took off this morning but he doesn’t really want to go back to Manchester yet. He’s not quite ready to face Haley and Harry. He stands on the doorstep and waves at her, laughing at the memories of his teenage-self doing the same thing only with four girls attached to his limbs. He grabs his phone on the way back to the living room and turns it back on but puts it on the table before he can see if he has any new messages. He flips through the channels until he finds a program dumb enough to kill a few of his brain cells; maybe it’ll keep his brain from burning out too fast. But his phone keeps buzzing and he can’t ignore it. He has about half a dozen of texts from Harry, most asking if he’s alright and one promising to leave him alone. He can only imagine how he must have felt when he woke up to an empty bed and got no answer to his many texts. He should have left a note or something, just to reassure Harry on the fact that he will be coming back. He will always come back for him, it seems. So he’s typing out an answer because he can’t just let Harry believe that he wants to be left alone. He might need time away from him to think about what he wants to do next but he could never want to cut him out of his life.

**Went 2 Doncaster. Back tomorrow.**

He keeps the phone in his hand, holding it tightly as to not miss Harry’s reply. But he doesn’t expect him to answer, not really. He won’t blame him if he doesn’t want to talk to him anymore. He did leave him without any sort of explanation only hours after he jerked him off after all. And yet his phone vibrates in his hand and he has to take in a deep breath before looking at the screen, just in case it’s not Harry’s name he’ll see flashing there. But it is.

_Why did you go?_

Louis stares at the message for a moment too long, considering what to answer. He’s done lying to Harry, done keeping things from him, but he can’t just tell him that he panicked either. He’s too aware of how discouraging that might sound. So he opts for a half-truth instead.

**Needed 2 think, is all**

_Regrets?_

It is not a reply to his message, he knows. The text was in his inbox within seconds of him hitting the ‘send’ button and Harry’s never that fast. As endearing as it is that Harry always speaks quite slowly all the time, and even by text, it often drives him crazy too. This message is probably the continuity of his first, which means Harry thinks he flew the scene because he regrets what happened between them. He doesn’t, still doesn’t.

**I regret leaving u**

It’s the honest truth too. It’s his only regret concerning last night; the only thing he would do differently if given the chance. And well, maybe he would change not telling him about Emma too. But maybe he wouldn’t have changed that because maybe nothing would have happened then. Maybe Harry would have left him there and gone home with Nick. Maybe he will run away when he will finally know the truth.

_Not what I meant…_

Louis knows, of course he knows. But he can’t tell Harry yet. He can’t tell him just how much last night meant to him before telling him the truth about Emma. He won’t have much left when Harry walks away from him so he wants to hold onto the last strands of his dignity.

**I’ll be there tomorrow. I promise.**

He turns his phone off again, not waiting for Harry’s possible answer. He might try to push the subject. He might try to get it over with now instead of waiting for tomorrow’s inevitable face to face. And Louis doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want to open himself up through a text conversation. But he knows he won’t be able to stop himself if Harry asks him. He can’t deny anything to Harry, it seems. So he’ll keep his phone off until tomorrow.

 

Louis is watching reruns of Real Housewives of Whatever City when the doorbell resonates throughout the whole house. He mutes the TV and keeps still, hoping whoever is at the door will think no one’s home and leave. He’s only vaguely aware of the fact that he can be seen through the windows but he decides he’ll deal with this if he has to. If he thinks about it rationally, he knows that he has nothing to worry about as robbers and murderers don’t really knock before breaking in. But this isn’t his house, not really, so he doesn’t feel comfortable about opening the door. He doesn’t know what he could find behind it. He’s not sure he wants to know either. So he brings his knees up against his chest and rests his chin on top of them, hugging himself very tightly while he waits for the stranger to go away. But the lock is clicking open instead and he freezes, his eyes opened wide. He heard the best way to avoid getting killed is to remind the attacker of their victim’s humanity, like by looking them in the eye when they’re about to pull the trigger or something. But there is no gun pointed at him, only an amused smirk.

“Why the fuck do you have a key of my mum’s house?” Louis asks before Stan can give him hell for the scared look on his face when he stepped in. He untangles his limbs and straightens his back to try and appear a little bit braver. But he’s quite certain he won’t hear the end of it anyway.

“Booty calls, of course.”

“You’re gross.”

“At least I don’t look it.” Stan shrugs as he plops down next to Louis. “Or smell it.” He adds, wrinkling his nose in disgust. Louis makes a show of sniffing himself and shrugs even though he really does reek. And not just of alcohol and cold fags either. He smells of sweat and sex too. He should have taken a shower when he got here. He’ll have to apologize to his mother for not even considering getting cleaned up before forcing her to cuddle him.

“Were you attacked by leech or something?”

Stan’s staring at the side of his neck, he notices when he looks up. He wonders what has him so entranced when memories of Harry’s lips on his skin rush back to the front of his mind. There must be one hell of a love bites trail considering how enthusiastic Harry was last night. He brings a hand to his neck, presses his fingertips against the skin and feels the light ache that comes with bruises. He doesn’t have enough time to come-up with a believable lie apart from Haley has turned into a vampire overnight but Stan would probably call him out on it anyway. He is a little too aware of the fact that sex with his girlfriend is neither wild nor satisfying enough to explain the amount of bruises on his body; which is sort of really disturbing when he thinks about it.

“I had sex with Harry.” Louis blurts out. It feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders and it’s not a heavy weight at all but its disappearance does make it a little easier to breathe. Now he just needs to work out the courage to look at his best friend again. He really hopes there’s no disgust in his eyes. Or hatred. Or anything remotely negative, really. He takes in a deep breath and dares a glance at Stan. The only difference from ten seconds ago is that Stan is no longer staring at his marked skin, eyes set on the TV instead. And he’s smirking too but it’s not a mean smirk at all. It’s more of a knowing smirk, maybe a fond smirk too. It’s sort of weird. Louis doesn’t know what to make of it. So he’s about to ask when Stan speaks and he still isn’t looking at him but he’s not snarling insults either.

“Do you think Niall will have forgotten I owe him ten bucks when he comes back from Big Brother?”

“X-Factor. And why do you owe him ten bucks?”

“He said you’d shag Harry before Summer Hols but I thought you’d need more time to find the balls to even admit you want to fuck him.”

“We didn’t… wait, what?”

“Don’t look so shocked, Tommo. You were always the one starting bets on everyone’s relationship back in school, remember?

“It’s not… How did you know?”

“Would take a blind man to not see it.” Stan states simply and Louis doesn’t know what it means but he’s not really sure he wants to know. It might help, he thinks, maybe, to have an outsider’s opinion on his relationship with Harry.

“Am I really that obvious?”

“You gravitate around him, Louis. And I mean it in a very literal way too. It’s like these ridiculous curls of his are pulling you in or something and all you can do when he’s around is look at him and touch him and listen to him. I guess I’ll have to add kiss him to the list now.”

Louis is torn between smiling because Stan really doesn’t seem to mind the idea of his best mate being into another bloke and frowning because he can’t imagine being open about whatever this is. He thought about it, he maybe even dreamed about it a few times, but he never contemplated it could ever be a real possibility so he never envisioned the complications that will undoubtedly arise with a gay relationship. He can’t protect his daughter from everything in the world but he can at least try to protect her from this.

“I’m not gay.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“I don’t know what I am.”

“You don’t have to be anything.”

Louis’ sigh is dramatically loud when he slumps deeper into the couch. He knows what to do now. He’s made his choice and he knows it’s the wrong one but he has to go through with it. He has to stay firm. He can’t change his mind, not now and probably not ever. There’s just too much at stake.

“Is he good in the sack? He looks like he’d be good.” Stan asks casually and Louis has to laugh because it is just so typical of his best friend and he feels so relieved to know that whatever label he puts on his sexuality won’t change his friendship with Stan. He wishes he could say the same about his relationship with the rest of the world.

“He’s really good with his hands, yeah.” 

 

Stan asks a lot more questions than Louis has answers for but he tries not to be bothered by it because it feels good to talk about Harry without any restriction. He might blush a lot during Stan’s improvised Spanish Inquisition and he might get a lot of shit for it but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t have to pretend that he is not deeply and irrevocably fond of the curly haired baker. And it feels nice, it does, but it also hurts. He almost fools himself into thinking that it could always be that easy to talk about Harry, that people could always be as accepting of it all as Stan. Almost being the key word there. He knows that times are changing and that it’s no longer considered a deadly sin to have intercourse with someone of the same sex but it’s still highly frowned upon. He could handle it, he thinks. He could deal with being glared at when he’s out with Harry or being called all sorts of names. He could deal with almost everything to keep Harry by his side. Almost being the key word again. He doesn’t think he could handle his daughter being the butt of mean jokes because of him. He thinks he might be about to share this worry with Stan when all four of his sisters make their entrance. They are even noisier than he remembers, all talking over each other about entirely different subjects. He wonders if they realize no one’s really listening to them but he genuinely doubts it. He doesn’t make a sound and gets Stan to keep quiet too. He doesn’t know if he should be more impressed or hurt by how long it takes them to acknowledge his presence. They all squeal loudly then, probably louder than they ever did before, but only the twins attack him physically. Stan leaves shortly after the girls got in, claiming he’s not equipped to cope with four noisy girls and a moody Peter Pan. Louis tries to fit himself into their routine, listening to stories about their day while drinking tea out of a pink mug and helping with their homework as best as he could. He offers to help with the cooking too, knowing his mum won’t make it back in time for dinner, but Lottie just laughs at him before taking possession of the kitchen. He used to be the one taking care of his sisters whenever their mum had a late shift at work so it feels a little strange to watch his baby sister act all grown-up and in charge of the house. He doesn’t know where he belongs now but it is not here, not anymore. And it is not at home with Haley either. He tries to not think about Harry and how he might belong with him. He feels a little less out of place when the twins ask him to carry them to bed and read them a story even though they’re getting a little too old to believe in fairytales. He obliges and tucks them in before joining Lottie and Fiz in the living room. They decide to watch a movie while they’re waiting for Johannah and it’s not exactly the long overdue catch-up session he had in mind but they still give him the big bold lines so it’s okay. Johannah gets home when they’re halfway through the movie but she lets them finish it, retreating to the kitchen for a late-night snack. He’s tired enough that he considers calling it a night as soon as the girls are off the couch but he reckons his mum has made other plans for him when she walks out of the kitchen with a cup of tea in each hand.

“I worry about you.” She says after a few minutes of just sitting on the couch with him, staring at the steam flying out of their cups. Louis wants to tell her that she has no reason to but he can’t lie to her. He never could.

“I’ll be fine.” He says instead with a smile that he hopes looks real enough for her to believe it when he’s not sure that even he does. He wishes he could wipe all of the concern and trouble from her face but he knows such feelings are written in bold letters in a parent’s job description. He can’t really show up at her house one Monday morning to pour half of his heart’s content on her coffee table and then expect her to be just fine with it. He owes her a proper explanation. He owes her the truth regardless of how bad it hurts him to admit it. He breathes in deeply and takes a long sip of his cooling tea before speaking, his voice quiet and shaky.

“I met someone.”

“I figured.” She smiles as she traces one of the fading bruises on his neck. He feels his cheeks heat up with the blood rushing there. He wonders if she understood what he did last night, if she knows he cheated on Haley. He tries not to think about it and focuses on his explanation.

“It feels like nothing makes sense anymore; like everything I knew, everything I wanted… It’s like it was all just lies I told myself to sleep better at night. And I tried to turn a blind eye, tried to pretend that I could live like this and still be happy but I don’t think I can anymore. I can’t just tune out my heart anymore. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone.” He says in a breath and thinks about stopping there. He doesn’t have to mention Harry’s the reason why everything’s so confusing lately. But he does. He does because Harry is the key to everything. “And Harry… he is the best thing that has ever happened to me, mum, and he… He makes me believe in love.”

There are about a million scenarios taking form in his head while he waits for his mum’s reaction but he can’t bring himself to imagine happy endings for any of them. He’s too scared to set himself up for disappointment. But then he’s in his mum’s arms and he’s crying on her shoulder. He doesn’t know when he started crying or even why he’s crying but she’s hugging him through it and she’s telling him that everything will be okay and that’s enough to send him in another crying fit. She didn’t throw him out the door. She doesn’t hate him.

“Do you want to tell me about this magician of yours?” Johannah asks after a few minutes of silence, a small smile on her lips as she sips on her tea. Louis realizes that he wants to tell her about Harry, about how amazing he is and how pretty too. He wants to tell her everything, even the things a son should never be telling his mother.

“Harry.” Louis says. “But I like to call him Curly better because he has that incredibly untamed mop of curls that he spends half of his day trying to comb. It’s cute, really. Everything about him is cute somehow. Like he’s a giant and I should hate it because I feel so tiny next to him, you know? But I don’t hate it, at all. I like it because it makes me feel like he was made for me. Or maybe I was made for him, I don’t know. I just… It’s like every part of us fits perfectly together, you know? God, I sound so cheesy! Stop me, please!”

Louis chuckles lightly and tries to cover his face with his hands. It’s embarrassing how ridiculous he sounds when he tries to describe how Harry makes him feel. He dares a look at his mum and sighs in relief when he sees the grin she’s sporting. She looks happy, not so worried anymore. And he wants to keep it this way. He’ll just focus on facts; try to keep his infatuation to himself.

“And he’s always so positive, you know? He went through so much shit when he was younger but he never let any of it bring him down. He still tries to see the best in everything and everyone. And he’s a proper idiot too. He dances in the middle of roads even when cars are coming his way and he screams the silliest things at lampposts on the way back to his place… He knows that he’s making a fool out of himself but he doesn’t care.”

“I like him already.”

Louis has to bite his tongue to not tell her that he is more than a little biased and she should just wait to meet him before she goes calling him her second son because she might never get to meet him. She might never get to see if he really is as amazing as what Louis describes. She might have noticed him tensing up because she’s pulling him back into her arms, fingers carding through the hair at the back of his head.

“I think he’s cross-breed; half-human and half-fawn.” He jokes in a feeble attempt at lightening the mood. “He reminds me too much of Bambi when he walks on these long legs of his.”

“He could be a proper stag and I’d still approve of him.” Johannah laughs quietly. Louis melts further into her side, seeking comfort in the way she runs her hand through his hair. Maybe things could be okay, he thinks. He has a lot to lose, too much maybe, but he’ll always have the support of those who really matter and that should be enough. “It doesn’t matter who you fall in love with, Louis. All that matters is that he makes you happy.” 

Louis doesn’t need to think about it. There’s not even the shadow of a doubt in his mind. He knows the answer.

“He does.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How awful am I at writing smut then? And what do you think Louis decided to do? I want to know where you think this is going :p
> 
> I won't be able to update A Different Light for two weeks as I'm going to visit my friends in the UK but I'll be posting Chapter 8 on the 22nd without fault. I might even post chapter 9 the next day, if you're lucky. And if you comment. *whistles innocently*


	9. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiiiiya!! I'm finally back, yaay! And with the shortest chapter I've ever written, probably, but I wrote it on a holiday with mates so really, you're lucky to even get something! I'm kidding, of course.
> 
> Now, I have quite a few people to thanks this time around and that makes me so freaking happy, you have no idea! So thanks to EchoedCreativity, Koolshelby, Bookbee, Gryles, CuthleyStylinson, DanielleElizza & IrishAddict for the comments. You all rocks. Same goes for you who clicked the "kudos" button, really.

Louis doesn’t sleep much that night, stares at the dents in the ceiling and thinks instead. He makes a list of all the turning points in his life and tries to work out how he got there. He imagines storytellers could use the day he met Harry as the starting point and it’d be easy for them to justify their reasoning. He guesses they could reason that he never questioned anything before meeting Harry. He wasn’t completely happy with his life but he never complained about it. He never tried to find a way out. But they’d be wrong. He has been second-guessing a lot of his choices long before Harry stepped into his life. He was just too big of a coward to admit it, even to himself. He doesn’t know where he’d start his story if he were to write it someday but he’s starting to think that it doesn’t really matter because this life isn’t the result of just one moment, of just one choice. Every second of the day holds the potential to change someone’s future forever. He thinks back to the day he tried out for the football team and he wonders how much of his life would be different if he had skipped it. He wonders if he’d have realized his dream of playing for Manchester United had he not busted his knee before being scouted. He wonders where he’d be now if he had fought his mum harder and stayed in Doncaster to help her. He wonders if he’d still be in contact with Haley if they hadn’t forgotten to use protection that one time. But he doesn’t wonder what it would be like if he hadn’t met Harry because no matter what aspect of his current life he changes, he can never imagine Harry not being a part of his alternative life. And he’s never been a big believer of fate but he can’t stop thinking that Harry’s right and that they were meant to find each other. The thought makes him feel like a character from a young adult novel. He remembers that one book Lottie explained to him a few years ago, something about a fallen angel having to keep the woman he loves at a far in order to save her from hell but they just keep finding each other and falling in love no matter how many time she dies because of it. It’s sort of how he feels about his relationship with Harry now, like they are meant to be together but are forced apart by greater powers. Except the only thing keeping them apart is Louis’ habit of letting his fears control his decisions. He can’t fuck everything up this time. He straightens his back against the armrest, brings his feet flat on the couch and grabs his phone on the coffee table. He closes his eyes while he waits for it to load up. He’d just need to shut his brain off for a minute to fall asleep; even just a second would be enough for him to pass out at this point. He picks his phone up and sighs at the lack of new messages. It’s not like he expected any, really, but he hoped to hear more from Harry. He knows that he’s not being fair. He shouldn’t be expecting Harry to fight for him when he hasn’t given him a reason to. He’s pretty sure he has given him all the reasons not to, actually. He takes in a shaky breath and opens the photo album. He scrolls down to the bottom of the page, skipping through trillions of pictures of Emma to get to the few he has of Harry. He clicks on the first photograph and smiles at the sight of Harry poking a purple tongue at the lens. He remembers the night he took it. He had only just started going back to the café, had still been trying to get used to Harry sitting with him every morning, but Harry had insisted on taking him to his friend’s party. He had been a bit reluctant at first, still too shaken up by what had happened the last time they’d partied together, but he’d let Harry convince him anyway. The party had been a real blast. Harry’s friend had gone all out to recreate some sort of childhood memory, renting things that he’d expect Emma to ask for her next birthday like an inflatable castle, a big trampoline and a pony. Even the drinks had been customized to look like they could be served to kids if it weren’t for the stupid amount of alcohol in them. All of the cocktails had tasted like candies and coloured their tongues. All the sugar had left Harry hyper for days and Louis had found it strangely endearing.

“He’s hot!”

Louis shrieks in a very manly way and jumps off the couch. He’s vaguely aware of the phone flying out of his hands and his sister’s eyes following its landing between the cushions. He should probably try to grab the device before her but she’s closer to it now and he’s still trying to calm his heartbeat. So he lets her get the phone and sits on the other armrest while she looks through all the pictures he has of Harry. He knows she’s gotten to the last one when her smirk drops off her face. He glances at the screen when she hands the phone back to him, bites the inside of his cheek to keep his emotions off his face. He couldn’t resist when he saw him this morning, sprawled on the bed with the thin cover resting low on his hips and a sleepy smile on his lips. He looks happy, at peace with everything. So he took a picture because he wanted to remember how Harry looks when he isn’t trying to hide his feelings.

“Does Haley know?” Lottie asks after a few minutes of awkward silence, staring at her clasped hands. Louis throws his head back with a loud sigh and pinches the tip of his nose. He wonders if she’ll go away if he ignores her. It used to work when she was a kid. She huffed and stomped on his foot but she walked away. But she’s older now, almost an adult even, and the silent treatment doesn’t work on her anymore.

“I’m not having this conversation with you.” Louis states when he comes to terms with the fact that she won’t just disappear. He might not be looking at her but he knows that she’s not moving. He’s pretty sure she’s staring at him now actually, which means she won’t let it go.

“Brandon’s mum is gay. She left his father for a woman when he was in nappies and she’s been living with her ever since so Sophie is like a third parent to him; a bit like Dad was to you. And he’s a decent guy, you know? I mean, he’s more than a little bonkers at times but he’s not a delinquent or anything. He’s just a normal kid with problems that have nothing to do with his two mums and single dad.”

It takes a minute for Louis to remember who Brandon is exactly but he grunts when he realizes he’s the boy Lottie has been bringing up in all their conversations for the last two months. He’s not really sure what they are to each other but just the idea of his little sister dating makes him feel weird. He wants to ask her about this boy and make sure he really is good enough for her but it’s past four in the morning and she shouldn’t be wasting precious minutes of sleep to comfort him. He turns his head to look at her with a one-sided smile. He’s not sure when she’s turned into such a beautiful and wise woman but he’s proud to be calling her his sister. And he doesn’t know how to thank her.

“Go back to bed, Charlotte.”

 

It only takes a couple of minutes for Louis to fall asleep once Lottie’s gone back to her bedroom but he’s still far from rested when he wakes up a few hours later. He’s not really sure he slept long enough to have dreams but he’s quite certain he dreamed of Harry anyway. He seems to remember the image of Harry sitting on the same couch he’s currently lying on, the twins on each side of him to watch a movie and Emma playing with his curls from her spot on his lap. He wants it to be more than the fleeting pieces of a dream. He wants it to be real. He wants to take Harry to Doncaster and introduce him to his girls and cuddle him in spite of Lottie’s jealous stare because his boyfriend is hotter than hers. He can’t help but smile because he’ll get to make it a reality soon. If Harry doesn’t shut the door in his face first, that is. There’s a clatter coming from the kitchen suddenly and Louis groans loudly, bringing both of his arms up to cover his eyes. He could do with a little bit more sleep now. He also could do with a few more dreams of a happy relationship with Harry. But that’s a dream in itself and the sudden weight on his legs serves as a heavy reminder.

“Will you drive us to school, Lou?” Phoebe asks from somewhere near his feet, her voice sweet and tiny. Louis really wants to get back to Manchester fast and talk to Harry before going mad but he also wants to make his girls happy and if it means staying in Doncaster for a couple more hours, then so be it. And it’ll give him time to think about what he’ll tell Harry too, which might not be such a bad thing.  
  
“Sure, yeah.”

Both Phoebe and Daisy shriek into his ear before jumping on him for a hug. There are too many limbs flailing around and kicking him and it’s painful, but he’s missed them too much to care about bruises. They run into the kitchen as soon as they’re done thanking him and he sits up on the couch, stretching his aching muscles. He should have let his mum get the guest room ready for him.

“They only want you to drive them ‘cause their friends think you’re fit.”

He turns his head to see Fizzy leaning against the staircase, arms crossed over her chest and smirk playing on her lips. He wishes he could keep all of his sisters from growing up so he wouldn’t have to miss too much more of their lives.

“They probably think the same of Robert Pattinson so…”

“Would require them to know who he is.”

“I can’t be that old!”

He hates Twilight with a burning passion but he refuses to believe a bunch of ten year olds don’t know about the movies. The last movie was only released like two years ago. Alright, maybe they haven’t been exposed to the piece of crap yet.

“You’re twenty-two, Lou. You might as well have lived with a couple of dinosaurs when kids are concerned.” She laughs as she disappears into the kitchen too, her joyful ‘good morning’ echoing throughout the house.

 

Louis ends up driving all four of his sisters to their different schools. He even has the grand privilege of catching a glimpse of the infamous Brandon when Lottie runs out of the car and straight into his arms. He silently questions his sister’s attraction for the dirty-looking skater lad but guesses she’s not as superficial as he seems to be. He faintly wonders how he’d feel about Harry if he weren’t so pretty but quickly decides that he’d be into him regardless. Because he’s not falling for what he sees of the curly haired boy. He’s falling for what he knows about him, for what he’s still learning about him. And maybe that’s why he has such a hard time defining his sexuality; maybe he just doesn’t really fit any of the existent labels.

The twins insist on being walked to their classroom and Louis knows they just want to parade him around but he indulges them anyway. Their teacher is an old friend of his so he takes advantage of the few minutes before the bell rings to catch up with her. He feels a little awkward and out of place there but he puts the blame on the herd of too young girls ogling his backside. He prays for the twins and Emma to never be even half as obnoxious as these girls. He gets fed up of the attention rather quickly. He wouldn’t have walked faster if bees had been chasing him. He’s just about to start the engine when he feels his phone buzz in his jeans pocket and he takes it out eagerly, hoping to see a new text from Harry. He can’t help but feel disappointed when he sees Haley’s name instead. He types out a quick reply to let her know that he’s about to hit the road. He decides to not mention the fact that he called in sick again. It reminds him that he needs to get proof of his imaginary sickness. He might have to learn a few magic tricks in order for that to happen; or just find an extremely gullible doctor. Maybe he won’t need a certificate if he agrees to work over the summer. So he spends most of the drive back to Manchester worrying about his future at the school, coming up with more or less realistic plans to not get fired. And he doesn’t think about Harry, not until he’s parking in the street opposite the café. He stays in the car for a moment longer. He doesn’t know what to tell Harry. He doesn’t know how to explain that he wants to be with him but he also wants to protect his daughter. He thinks about Brandon and his two mums then, and how it doesn’t fuck him up to live with a gay couple. Maybe it could all work out for him too. Maybe he could have both Harry and Emma. There’s only one way to know. He takes in a shaky breath and makes his way to the café. The place is a little emptier than usual, probably due to the time of the day, and Jade’s doing crosswords behind the counter. Harry’s not at their table but it’s not surprising. He’s more than a little late for breakfast.

“Funny, I’ve always pegged you for a Sudoku girl.”

“Please, I’m like allergic to numbers.” Jade says with a dramatic roll of her eyes. Louis thinks he should laugh because she’s responsible for the café’s accountancy so she has to be tolerant of numbers at the very least. But all sounds get stuck in his throat when Harry stumbles down the stairs with a girl perched on his back, both of them laughing happily. He thinks he’d probably be a bit jealous if the girl wasn’t Harry’s sister. He doesn’t know what she’s doing in Manchester but he knows that he won’t get to talk to Harry while she’s here. Harry finally notices him standing there and gets his sister back on her own two feet but he doesn’t move from his spot at the bottom of the staircase. Louis shuffles a bit and stuffs his hands in his pocket. He can’t remember the last time he’s felt so nervous.

“I missed breakfast.” Louis states with a small smile and he doesn’t know why he would start a conversation with something so random but he reckons it’s better than ‘Please forgive me for running away the other morning. I freaked out but I really want to be with you’ or anything along these lines. “My sisters wanted me to drive them to school so I couldn’t make it on time but I wanted to. I’m sorry.”

“It’s never too late to have breakfast.”

Gemma’s laugh sounds a lot like Harry’s, Louis notes, except that it’s not muffled by her hands on her mouth. It sort of breaks his heart but he forces a smile on his lips because he doesn’t want to come out as rude.

“He’s not really talking about breakfast, Gems.” Harry mutters through gritted teeth, a light blush colouring his usually pale cheeks. Louis could swear that Gemma’s eyes light up with recognition, which leads him to wonder what Harry told her about him. He’s quite certain she’s giving him a full-body inspection now. It feels almost as awkward as when the kids were ogling him earlier. He wishes he could read minds to know what she thinks of him because it must matter a lot to Harry. He thinks he understands how Harry felt when he met Stan and Zayn for the first time now.

“This big doofus and I are going for a walk around the park if you want to join us. We could sit under a tree to eat sandwiches and have him play the guitar for us.” Gemma says after a few minutes of intense staring and Louis releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He looks up at Harry to see his blush has darkened considerably and he frowns because there was nothing embarrassing about what his sister just said. It sounds a lot like what they did a few weeks ago… alright then, Harry told her about their day at the park. And he probably told her what they did the other night too.

“Thanks but I think I’ll pass.” He smiles. He wants to spend every minute of the day with Harry but he can’t, not with his sister around and certainly not before their talk. “I’ll drop by later, yeah?”

“I’ll text you.”

 

The thing is that Louis doesn’t have anything to do with his day and Zayn has a few classes to attend all throughout the afternoon so he just sits in his car for a while. He rests his forehead against the steering wheel while he thinks. He thinks to not think about Harry, tries to concentrate on finding a reasonable way to save his job instead, but everything leads him back to Harry somehow. He’s quite sure whatever there is between them is important to Harry. He wouldn’t have told his sister anything otherwise. Maybe he would have mentioned his name in passing but he wouldn’t have given her the details of their day out. It doesn’t mean Harry won’t throw him out the door once he’ll have told him everything but it won’t be because he doesn’t care enough about him. He realizes that he can’t spend all day thinking about his relationship with Harry. He’ll probably focus on the worst-case scenarios and convince himself that he’ll never find a way out of the hole he started digging the night he forgot to put on a condom. So he goes to pick Emma up at the daycare centre and takes her to the playground. He treats her with junk food for lunch and plays in the sandbox with her and pushes her on the swing ‘til he feels like his arms are about to fall off. And it’s not the kind of fun he expected to have today but it doesn’t matter when his daughter is laughing so loud that his ears are ringing with it. Emma gets tired eventually so he takes her home and puts her down for a nap. He tries to catch a couple hours of sleep himself but lying down has him getting lost in his own mind again and it’s not long before he feels just as restless as the night before. So he gives up on the idea of sleep and decides to tidy the house instead. He might have hope that it will put Haley in a good mood too because he really needs her to be okay with him heading back to town for a few hours in the evening. He has to talk to Harry today, if only because he’s too exhausted to survive another sleepless night.

Emma wakes up about half an hour before Haley is due back home so he agrees to play dolls with her until then. Haley looks rather impressed with the state of their house when she steps in. She’s also very happy to hear they’ve waited for her to have their afternoon tea. She makes it even more special for Emma by agreeing to serve the collation in the living room so they can watch cartoons while they eat. And it's just one of the many moments they've shared as a family but it is special too because it might very well be their last moment as a united family. He'd like for the three of them to still spend time together once he'll have moved out but he knows that's highly unlikely. They're about to start the third episode of Jane & The Dragon when Harry texts him that Gemma just boarded her train and that he should be at the café in twenty minutes. And all Louis can think of doing is going to see him. He's pretty sure he could run all the way to the café if it meant getting there faster. But Emma's so happy to be sandwiched in between her parents to watch her favourite show that he doesn't want to burst her bubble just yet. So he texts Harry back, lets him know he had to go back to his house for a bit but he will go over after dinner. And he tries his best to sit still through the episode but he knows he's doing a poorly job when Haley gets him to help in the kitchen. He doesn't give her time to confront him as he tells her he'll have to head back to town after dinner before she can even ask why he's being so restless. And he expects her to question his motives but she doesn't. She just stares at him for a moment before sighing and telling him to cut the carrots.

He's on his best behaviour for the rest of his time at home, obviously trying to avoid a confrontation. And he's out of the door as soon as Emma's all tucked in. It only takes about fifteen minutes to get to Manchester by car but it feels a lot longer than that to Louis. He tries to rehearse some sort of speech but he never goes much further than _'I really like you but I can't be with you'_. The café's closed when he gets there but he can see Harry putting the chairs over the tables through the glass doors. He stands there for a few minutes, just watching him, and he realizes, not for the first time, that he's about to make what could be the biggest mistake of his life. He takes in a deep breath and knocks on the door and his heart sinks when Harry's whole face lights up at the sight of him. He strides over to open the door with a big goofy smile on his lips and all Louis wants to do is to kiss him but he can't yet so he doesn't. Harry does, though. Louis isn't even inside the café when Harry wraps an arm around his waist to pull him closer and cups his jaw with his gigantic warm hand. And he knows what's going to happen and he knows that he should stop it and remind him that they need to talk. But he doesn't want to push him away and he doesn't want to wait any longer. So he closes his eyes and lets their lips mould together in a sweet tentative kiss. It only lasts a few seconds, definitely not long enough to leave them breathless or even fully satisfied.

"Hi." Harry smiles as he leans down again to knock their forehead together softly. And his face is so close and his lips look so inviting that Louis can't resist the urge to peck them.

"Hi."  
  
Louis thinks he'd bottle up this moment if he could, maybe hang it on a necklace so he could wear it close to his heart forever. So it's only logical that Harry's the first to pull away and he laces their fingers together to lead him upstairs. Louis has half a mind to ask him if they can just sit at their table to talk because he doesn't trust himself to not try to jump him on the bumpy old couch like he really wants to. But they're awkwardly standing in the living room before he is done processing the thought anyway. And Harry's sitting on the damn couch, tugging at his hand so he'll sit down too. But he can't so he shakes Harry's hands off of his body and walks backwards to lean against the bedroom's door.

"Just let me speak first, okay?" He requests, his voice shaking with nerves, and Harry nods slowly so he takes in a deep breath and starts talking.

"I like you, Harry. I like you so fucking much that it scares me because... so many reasons, really, but mainly because I've never felt so strongly for anyone before. And it confused me for a very long time. I didn't understand what it was and you're a bloke so it didn't help me figure things out. I've never fancied guys, Harry, but you... Fuck, you're like the most beautiful human being I've ever met so how was I meant to not fall for you? And you know I don't believe in love and fate and all that shit but I think maybe it's not all utter bullshit after all because I don't know if what I feel for you is love or something else but it's... it makes me feel full, complete. It makes me feel like I was meant to find you. Or you were meant to find me. Whatever."

He can't help but laugh. He sounds so ridiculous to his own ears and he doesn't know why Harry isn't running for the hills right now. He doesn't even make sense, he's sure. So he brings both hands up to his face and digs the flat of them in his eyes. Maybe the pain will keep his mind busy enough so he can collect his thoughts. Harry's hands are on his in seconds and he lets him uncover his face but he closes his eyes. He can't look at him, not when he's about to voice the worst decision he's ever made.

"I can't be with you, Harry. Not yet." He murmurs. "My life is one big mess right now and I need to sort it all out but there's..."

Harry cuts him off with a kiss that is neither gentle nor passionate but still so perfect somehow. Louis wouldn't have been able to stop himself from kissing back if Harry hadn't pulled away before he could fully understand what was happening.  
  
"I'll wait." Harry promises against Louis' lips. "For as long as you'll let me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might not be very happy with this chapter but damn, I'm in love with the last scene! Am I allowed to say that if I wrote it myself? I'm taking the right to!
> 
> What did YOU think?
> 
> And because it's only 2 hours to the premiere of Best Song Ever music video... if you've seen it, what did you think of that? I obviously haven't seen it yet but I expect it to be funny as shit so... Let's discuss it on tumblr if you wish mustbe-themusic.tumblr.com :D


	10. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look, an update! I apology for not posting a new chapter last week but as you'll soon realize this one is super duper long (something like 9940 words) so that's why it took 2 weeks to write. I hope it's good enough to make up for the wait. 
> 
> That said, feedbacks motivate me to write faster so if you don't give me some, you can only blame yourself! (just kidding.) Also, usual thanks to the people who gave me kudos & Bookbee & Alejandra for their comments)
> 
> My beta didn't have time to proof-read the chapter this weekend (Happy Birthday to her!) so forgive any mistakes, they're all mine.

The first thing Louis becomes aware of when he drifts back into consciousness is the lack of a warm body against his. He wouldn’t have thought it weird if he had gone back home after the movie but he’d chosen to cuddle with Harry for a bit longer instead. And he clearly remembers Harry’s arm securely wrapped around his waist when he started dozing off, only to keep him from falling off the couch of course. He hasn’t been dwelling on Harry’s curious absence for too very long when he hears the sound of a camera’s shutter going off. He should have known. Harry’s been trying to get a decent picture of him for weeks now so of course he’s going to try and take it when all of his defences are down.

“Creep.” He mumbles sleepily as he covers his face with his hands to hide from the prying lens. And he would try to be mad at Harry for taking advantage of his defenceless state if he believed he could pull it off. But he can’t feel anything remotely negative about Harry. He can’t feel anything other than affectionate towards Harry, really. He has a feeling even the most apathetic of men couldn’t resist the curly head’s antics. There’s no way to remain stonily indifferent when he does silly things such as quietly humming a Radiohead song to throw shades at an insult. Louis sure can’t help but laugh at that and his hands drop off his face in the process. 

“Got you.” Harry declares happily, lowering his camera to show off his dimpled grin. Louis reaches out to grab his hands and pull him down on top of him. They wanted to wait for Louis to end things with Haley before acting on their feelings, they did, but the attraction was too strong and their resolve faded after just a few days of trying. Louis had found it hard to stay away from Harry when he didn’t know how it felt to kiss him and be held by him but now he finds it nearly impossible.  

“Yeah, you did.” Louis smiles against Harry’s lips. And then they’re kissing again, lips moving together slowly. Louis wonders if he’ll ever get bored of kissing Harry but he doesn’t think he ever will. These kisses are too intoxicating for anyone to grow out of them and Louis feels a little smug at the prospect of being the only one to get them. He hopes Harry’s not snogging anyone else but he can’t ask him to be exclusive, not when he’s still living with Haley. He hasn’t touched her or let her touch him since he confessed his feelings to Harry but he hasn’t broken up with her either. He was going to do it as soon as he got home that night but he realized that he would be blindsiding her and he couldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t hurt her like that. He’s trying to ease her into it instead, putting distance between them and acting like himself rather than the perfect boyfriend he thinks she wants him to be. And if he hopes she’ll leave him before he leaves her it is nobody’s business but his.

“Stay here tonight.” Harry says, words muffled against Louis’ collarbone as he sucks a love bite there. Louis knows he shouldn’t let him bruise his skin, not when he has to go back to his girlfriend, but he can’t bring himself to stop him. He wants to be marked by Harry, wants everyone to know he belongs to Harry. And he wants everyone to know Harry belongs to him too but that’s beside the point. “Don’t go back to her.” 

“Don’t. Harry, please.” Louis breathes out shakily. He knows that he’s hurting Harry by taking so long to end things with Haley and he hates himself for it but he can’t just walk out on her either. He believes that leaving her without any sort of notice might just as well mean walking out on Emma too. He feels Harry move on the other side of the couch and opens his eyes to see him bring his knees closer to his chest, his gaze lost in space and he knows that he’s putting on his defences to think. It can’t be good. So Louis creeps closer to him and nudges his knee a little forcefully. Harry gets the message and flattens his legs, allowing Louis to straddle him properly.

“You can’t have us both, Louis.”

“It’s a good thing I only want you then.” Louis smiles shyly and pauses to catch Harry’s eyes, framing his face with both hands to keep him from avoiding it. “It might scare the shit out of me but I’m absolutely positive that I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” He confides. “You are it for me Harry Styles.”

And he knows he shouldn’t confess such a thing when he hasn’t even told Harry that he has a daughter yet but he believes that it’s a truth they both need out in the open right now. Harry needs to know that Louis is serious about this even if he does keep one big secret.

“Prove it then.”

Louis knows promises won’t be enough to tie Harry over this time. He can’t just tell him he’s serious about this anymore. He might not even believe him at this point. He’ll have to show him instead. He’ll have to break up with Haley sooner rather than later. So he takes in a deep breath and nods, confirming to Harry that he’s going to do what it takes to prove that he’s all in. He is so completely in. Harry brings his hands down then, kisses his forehead and places him back on the couch. That’s his cue to leave.

 

Haley’s asleep by the time Louis gets back to their house, which isn’t surprising considering how late it is already. Or maybe it is really very early. He doesn’t know. Judges are still out on that one. He leans against the doorframe of their bedroom and watches her for a moment. She looks peaceful, happy. There’s even a cute little smile tugging at the corner of her lips, one he doesn’t get to see often when she’s awake. He wonders what she’s dreaming about, wonders if he plays a part in this imaginary world of her. He wishes he’d fallen in love with her instead of Harry sometimes, not because it would have made everything a lot easier but because she deserves to be someone’s everything. But he can only hope she’ll meet someone who will love her unconditionally, someone who will be good to both her and Emma. He hopes she’ll meet her Harry. He grabs a pair of joggers and makes his way to the bathroom. He can’t get in a bed with Haley when he still smells of Harry’s cologne. So he scrubs at his skin every night, always leaves it red and raw and sore. He uses the pain as a reminder of how wrong everything is lately. He never meant for things to happen the way they did, never meant to like Harry so much that he’s unable to stay away from him. There are times when he wishes he could have prevented it, just so he wouldn’t have to hurt anyone, but these moments never last long. There are many things he’d do differently if given the chance but loving Harry will never be one of them. He could never regret falling for the baker. He takes his time to wash away the scent of Harry from his skin, wanting to hold onto it for as long as possible. He stays under the spray until the water turns ice cold. He’d feel bad for using all of the hot water if he didn’t know Haley had taken her shower last night, just in case she’ll sleep through her alarm again. It has become a habit of her the last few weeks, mostly because she stays up late every night. She claims to be working on a few important projects but he knows she’s waiting for him to come home. He thinks that maybe she’s waiting to see if he’ll come home at all. He walks into the kitchen to grab a glass of milk and catches a glimpse of the clock on the microwave. Haley’s leaving for the airport in just a couple of hours. She’s about to fly out of the country to work on something important enough that it has the power to make or break her career. He can’t break up with her now. He doesn’t know why he thought it’d be a good idea to talk to her now. It’s just one more week. Harry will understand, he hopes. He should slip into bed before her alarm goes off and pretend to be asleep while she gets ready. But that’s not what he’s going to do. He’s going to make breakfast and sit with her until she has to leave. He owes her that at least. So he turns the kettle on and gets two mugs out of the cupboard. He should have taken these extra cupcakes Harry baked for him. He might have spent hours watching him work his magic in the kitchen but he’s still just as useless a cook as he was before meeting him. He opts for eggs on toast. That’s probably the only thing he knows how to do without burning the house down. He thinks about signing up for cooking classes, for when he’ll live on his own. He can’t count on Harry to feed him and Emma every day for the rest of their lives, especially when he’s not certain he’ll stick around once he’ll know about his daughter. It’s hard to imagine Harry walking away from a child but he knows there’s a difference between watching over a friend’s kid once in a while and helping his boyfriend with his kid. Harry’s a lot more mature than most guys his age but he’s also a dreamer. There are all these things he wants to do like travel the world with just a backpack and open his own bakery with specialties from all the countries he’d have visited. He won’t get to do any of it if he settles with Louis, if he raises Emma with him. And maybe that’s why Louis hasn’t told him yet. Maybe he wants to make the best out of their time together before it all has to end. He turns around to see Haley leaning against the doorframe, arms tightly crossed over her chest and eyes still full of sleep. 

“When did you get home?”

“A little while ago.”

He could have lied to her. He could have told her that he got back late and slept on the couch to not wake her up. But he’s tired of lying to everyone all the time. And she wouldn’t have bought it anyway. He puts a plate next to one of the mugs and motions for her to sit down.

“My parents said they should be here around nine. It’d be great if Emma was all ready to go when they get here.” Haley informs him as he sits next to her, making him frown a little. It is possible that he forgot Haley’s parents had offered to take Emma to Southport for a couple of days since they had planned to spend the weekend there anyway. They didn’t invite him to tag along, of course. “You’re okay with them taking her for the weekend, right?”

The answer is no. He’s not okay with his daughter going to her grandparents’ on the one weekend he had alone with her. But he wasn’t given the option to refuse. He doesn’t want to start an argument now, or ever. So he shakes his head slowly and shoves eggs in his mouth.

“So what are you going to do with this empty house?”

“I was thinking about destroying it with a huge party.”

“Trying to impress the cool kids, Mr. Tomlinson?”

Louis wants to tell her that there’s only one cool kid he cares to impress these days, only one cool kid he wants to see this weekend and all the weekends after that, every day after that really. But he doesn’t, of course. He just forces a smirk on his face to go with the casual shrug he’s trying for. He’ll tell her in a week, he reminds himself. He just has to wait one more week.

 

Louis manages to catch a couple hours of somewhat decent sleep before he has to get Emma ready for her trip out of town. He decides to pack her bag first so she can store up some rest. He has a feeling she won’t get much of that with her grandparents spoiling her rotten instead of tucking her in for an afternoon nap. He’ll have to bite his tongue when they’ll get here. He can’t afford to offend them when he’s about to break their daughter’s heart. It’s for the same reason that he puts the horrible pink dress Haley’s mum bought for Emma the last time she paid them a visit, even though he knows his daughter hates it with a burning passion. At least he won’t be the one to break it to her grandmother. He makes sure to pack Emma’s favourite swimsuit to make it up to her. He finds her sitting on her bed when he goes to wake her up, her dolls and fluffy toys forming a circle around her as she explains that she’s going to the beach for a few days and can’t bring them all with her. He watches her for a moment, a smile on his lips. He wishes he could bottle up these moments and keep them intact in his memories forever. He doesn’t know what will happen after the split with Haley. He doesn’t know if he’ll get to see Emma for more than a few hours at a time. It’s not something he and Haley really talked about, mostly because they thought they would never have to. It was stupid of them to believe they could stay together forever when there’s never been any love between them. He realizes it now. And he really hopes Haley will accept it too. Emma beams when she notices him in the doorway and makes him promise to take care of her toys. He helps her put on the clothes she chose with her mum last night and agrees to carry her to the kitchen. He asks her to set the table because they’re trying to give her a little more responsibilities lately since she’ll be starting school in just a couple of months. He can’t believe she’s turning three soon. It feels like yesterday that he was cradling a little bundle of pink covers against his chest. He wonders how much intelligence it’d take to invent a gadget to freeze time. He has to get on it before she gets too old to be considered cute. He’s not particularly hungry but he sits with her anyway, nibbling on a toast while he waits for his tea to infuse. He listens very carefully as she lists all the things he needs to know about her dolls and he promises to take great care of them again. It’s important to her so it has to be important to him too. As he knows he won’t hear the end of it if the house isn’t perfectly clean when Haley’s parents will arrive so he sends Emma to pack a few toys while he does the dishes.

He just has time to put their mugs back in the cupboard that the doorbell rings through the house and Emma rushes out of her bedroom to watch her father open the door. He’s barely turned the doorknob that she’s already running into her grandfather’s arms. Louis can’t help but feel a little relieved when Haley’s mum announces that they have to hit the road right away if they want to avoid traffic. It’s not that he doesn’t like Haley’s parents. They’re nice enough people, really, and her father didn’t shot him in the balls when he found out he’d impregnated his daughter so that has to count for something. It’s just that they’re not the kind of people he’d willingly add to his entourage. They’re too uptight, too conventional for him. He’s pretty sure her mum’s holding a grudge against him because he hasn’t proposed the minute they found out about the pregnancy. It won’t be pretty when she’ll hear that he’ll never marry her daughter because he’d much rather live with another man. She’ll probably be so scandalized. He can only hope Haley won’t be influenced by her mother’s bigotry when he’ll come out. He’s surprised enough that she turned out the way she did in spite of an overly strict and rigid education. He plants about a million kisses all over Emma’s face and hugs her tighter than necessary as he makes her promise to call him. He wonders if he should be worried by the fact that he has a harder time than her to deal with a two days separation. Maybe he should just worry about the fact that he can’t deal with being away from her for two days when he’s about to break up with her mother and might not get to see her for weeks at a time. He knows Haley won’t take Emma away from him. She’ll allow him visits at the very least. But he wants shared custody. He won’t settle for anything less. He’ll fight for it if he has to and he won’t give up until he has it. He won’t lose his daughter, especially not because he fell in love with the wrong person. Harry’s not the wrong person, though. He’s the perfect person for him.

The house gets scarily silent once Emma’s gone and Louis realizes just how big it is for just one person. He won’t fight Haley for the house. He doesn’t want the house. He doesn’t want the car either. All he wants is Emma. And Harry. He wants Harry too. He doesn’t think he could choose between the two but he would if he had to. He really hopes he’ll never have to. As little as he wants to let go of Harry, he just can’t imagine not being in Emma’s life anymore. He likes Harry very much so but he needs Emma the same way he needs air. He hates his life. He doesn’t hate his life, really. He just wishes he could put of all his issues to rest for a minute. So he throws some clothes in his duffle bag, grabs his car keys and drives all the way to Harry’s.

He might have parked his car on the delivery truck’s spot but it doesn’t really matter because he won’t leave it here for too long anyway. He’s vaguely aware of the strange looks he’s getting as he rushes up the stairs. So maybe he looks like a complete lunatic right now. The door’s unlocked because Harry’s a little too trustworthy, or maybe he’s too naïve. Judges are still out on that one too. Either way, he can’t help the smile that tugs at the corner of his lips when he catches sight of him. He’s lying on his stomach, his face is buried in the pillow Louis like to claim as his when he’s over and his feet are dangling off the other side of the couch. There’s no way he’s feeling comfortable in that position but he’s sleeping rather peacefully anyway. Louis kneels next to the couch and runs a hand through Harry’s curls. He realizes that he doesn’t know if he’s a light sleeper or not, doesn’t know what it takes to wake him up in the morning. He should know that about Harry.

“Time is it?” Harry mumbles sleepily, his face still smashed against the pillow. Louis pokes him until he scoots closer to the back of the couch and lies down with him. He smiles when Harry’s arm wrap around his middle to keep him from falling. He thinks about kissing him but he doesn’t think they’ve been doing this long enough to not mind the whole morning breath thing. “More importantly, what are you doing here?”

And that would probably hurt Louis’ feelings if he hadn’t left the flat just hours prior to go back to his girlfriend and daughter. And also if he hadn’t told Harry that he would probably not have time to drop by this weekend. So the question’s pretty legitimate, he thinks.

“I’m coming to kidnap you.” He answers, grins when Harry opens his eyes to scan his face and he puts a hand over his mouth when he’s about to talk because he doesn’t want to explain why he has time for him all of the sudden. “I want to go somewhere with you. Anywhere you want. I don’t care about the destination. I just want to be with you, hold your hand while we walk in the streets and kiss you across the table at a restaurant and all these lovey-dovey things that made me want to gag before I met you.”

“We shouldn’t have to leave Manchester for that, Louis.” Harry sighs tiredly. And Louis feels it when he loosens his grip on his waist. He doesn’t like it but what he likes even less is that Harry thinks he wants to hide whatever’s going on between them. He might have many reasons to believe so but Louis thought he knew him better than that.

 “I’m not afraid of being seen with you, Harry. This is not why I want to go out of town this weekend.” He assures. “I just want us to do what normal couples do, right? And I heard that normal couples go on vacation together sometimes.”

It’s not the only reason why he wants to leave Manchester for a few days but he doesn’t think now is the time to explain why he feels the need to run away from all of his dilemmas for a little while.  He can see Harry’s determination to resist him waver. So he hold his face with both hands and leans over to peck him on the lips before looking straight into his eyes. 

“Run away with me, Harry Styles.”

Harry barks out laughing then and Louis catches his hands before he can bring them to his mouth to muffle the sound. He loves hearing this obnoxious laugh of his. It’s genuine and elated, so full of joy. It might be the perfect way to describe Harry too, Louis thinks.

“So anywhere I want, yeah?”

Louis doesn’t really trust his voice to not crack so he just nods. Harry beams at him, his whole face lightening up with how happy his smile is. And it really does not matter where they’re going, Louis thinks, just as long as it has Harry smiling that big all weekend.

 

Harry picks Cardiff as their destination because he apparently loves rather bad BBC sci-fi shows and also he wants to see if the bay is as beautiful as it looks on film. Louis warns Harry that he’s most definitely going to make fun of his interest in Doctor Who but decides to keep the teasing to a minimum this weekend. He might not mean to hurt Harry’s feelings but he knows Harry takes everything to heart and he wants their weekend to be perfect for the both of them. And if it’s because he knows it might be their only chance to make memories as a couple, well, he doesn’t have to acknowledge it just yet. He’ll deal with the consequences of the split with Haley when he’ll have to, not a second before. He gets them seats on the 11:30 train leaving from Piccadilly. It’s a direct one so it’ll only take about three hours for them to arrive at Cardiff Central. He finds them a hotel near enough to the bay, knowing Harry will love to have a romantic stroll by the water at night. He’s cheesy like that. He also books two tickets to visit the castle for the next day because they just can’t go to Cardiff and not see the castle. They’re going to have a great time and they’re going to make happy memories that he’ll still remember on his deathbed.

He looks at the clock on Harry’s laptop and sees that they don’t have to be at the train station for another forty minutes, which leaves them with enough time to start making these precious memories. So he closes the laptop and walks to the bedroom. He feels his heart flutter at the sight of the object of his affection putting his clothes in the duffle bag he went to retrieve from his car. He thinks he’d like it very much so if their stuff were to blend together for more than just two days. He’s about to say just that to Harry but reconsiders it at the last minute. It might be a little too soon to share this thought. They’ve only been whatever they are now for a few weeks. And well, he’s still living with his soon-to-be ex-girlfriend so there is that. It’s definitely not the right time to talk about what they are to each other. Next week, he reminds himself. They’ll get to put a label on their relationship next week. He walks over to Harry and peeks into the duffle bag. And yes, here comes the tightness in his chest again. He may want to get it checked. It can’t be totally healthy. Or maybe it’s the healthiest thing he’s ever felt. It’d be a marvellous way to go, he thinks, to die from an excess of love for a beautiful boy. He would laugh at himself for being so cheesy but he doesn’t want said beautiful boy to think he’s completely nuts.

“We’re only leaving for like a day and a half, baby. I don’t think you’ll need two sweaters.” Louis laughs, wrapping his arms around Harry’s waist and squeezing to undermine the gentle mockery.

“Packed one for you.” Harry shrugs. “I heard nights are quite chilly on the coast.”

Louis smiles at that, so big he’s sure the taller man can feel it through the fabric of his t-shirt. And he bites his shoulder because he has to do something with his mouth or he’ll turn the moment into a giant cheese-ball.

“When is our train leaving?”

“About half an hour.”

“We should get going then. It’s going to be hell to park your car at the station and we need to get the tickets from the machine.”

Louis might have had other ideas to fill the next thirty minutes but he knows Harry’s right on the struggle that is finding a parking spot. So he doesn’t argue. But he does kiss him breathless before allowing him to step out of their embrace. It should tie him over until they’re in the train at least.

 

It only takes minutes for Louis to doze off once the train gets moving so he quickly folds his body on the very smelly seat and rest his head on Harry’s laps. He feels Harry’s fingers tangle in his hair and scraps his scalp ever so gently. He looks up to see him read through his magazine, his brows furrowed in concentration. Louis doesn’t think he even realizes he’s got a hand in his hair and the thought makes him smile because this is natural to him. He feels his eyelids drop, finds them too heavy to open again. It’s a shame, really, because he had planned to remind Harry of how little he cares about being seen snogging him. He would have kept things tame enough, of course. There are kids around. And bigots too, it seems, if the disapproving look the lady he’s facing is any indication. Harry’s too good of a pillow to care, though, so he doesn’t. He will flip her off later. If he wakes up before she gets off the train, that is. That’s his last conscious thought for the rest of the ride.

Louis wakes up about ten minutes before they arrive in Cardiff to find that Harry has fallen asleep too at some point. He notices the arm loosely wrapped around his middle and thinks he must have wanted to secure him. He’s not sure it would have kept him from falling had he moved but the caring thought is sweet enough to have him feeling all warm inside. He feels like such a teenage girl with a crush. He should be ashamed of himself. He really is not. He’d be happy staying like this forever but he thinks he can see the train station through the window so he sits up and stretches to unknot his muscles. The judging lady is no longer in the coach, he notices idly. It’s too bad. He’d really have liked to flaunt his relationship with Harry in her face. He can definitely see platforms through the window now so he squeezes Harry’s thigh and trails kisses along his jaw. And he hopes gentle touches will be enough to wake him up because he didn’t carry ice-cold water with him. And it probably wouldn’t be cold anymore anyway. Harry doesn’t open his eyes but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of his lips so Louis knows he’s not really sleeping. He takes a minute to consider the boundaries that should never be crossed by any couples in public places before fitting his mouth over Harry’s. He darts his tongue out to lick at the space between his lips teasingly and grins when Harry parts them, silently giving him permission to deepen the kiss. And Louis really wants to straddle him and turn this little snog fest into a full make-out session but they’re still in a train and there are still kids around. So he pulls away, pecks Harry’s slightly swollen lips one more time and leans back into his own seat. Maybe he smirks a little too when he catches sight of Harry readjusting himself in his pants. It is marvellous to know dear little him can have that sort of effect on a beautiful human such as Harry Styles. The train comes to a stop eventually and he gets up to fetch their bag from the top compartment. But because he’s such a lucky man, it has been pulled all the way to the back and he’s just an inch too short even when he leans on his tiptoes. The situation becomes ridiculously embarrassing when Harry slips past him and grabs their sole piece of luggage so easily that it has to be illegal.

“I hate you and your tallness.” He mumbles with a pout that does not turn into a smile when Harry laugh. He definitely doesn’t smile then. But maybe he does when he feels long fingers slip in between his own and when said fingers squeeze around his hand tightly and he’s reminded of how just perfectly they fit together. Yeah, he’s most definitely smiling at that.

 

Louis doesn’t know how it happened exactly but Harry managed to convince him that they should walk to their hotel. He might have said something about being in town for just about twenty-seven hours and wanting to make the best out of it. Louis can’t be sure because he focused more on the way these very red, very full lips moved than on the words slipping past them. Lips like Harry’s should not be allowed, especially not on a face like Harry’s. And his face should be illegal too. Actually it is Harry Styles as a whole that should be illegal. He’d go as far as to say the guy is a lot too close to perfection but it might only be because he’s just came to terms with his feelings for him. It’s like a honeymoon phase without amazing, mind blowing sex. He sort of hates Harry for ruling out all kind of sex while he’s still with Haley but he also sort of loves him for it. He knows that he’s cheating on her regardless, realizes that to be emotionally involved with someone that is not his significant other is probably the worst kind of betrayal, but he feels like the whole ordeal would be a lot more painful for everyone if sex was in the cards. And it also shows that what he and Harry feel for each other is much more than just sexual attraction and the realization of that makes it hard for him to breathe sometimes. So he might not get laid tonight but he still feels like the luckiest guy to walk the streets of Cardiff today. He’s here with this adorable dork who fancies him for some strange reasons and puts up with him even when he doesn’t deserve it. The only way he could be happier is if Emma was with them. Next time, he thinks. The next time he goes somewhere with Harry, Emma will be with them. And he’ll bring a GPS too while he’s at it. Or maybe he just won’t let Harry play games on his phone so he will still have enough battery to use the Navigation application. Either way he will never put his trust on their sense of direction again. They’ve been walking in circles for almost an hour now and his feet are starting to hurt. He doesn’t even want to think about the pain that he’s sure to feel when he’ll take his knee-brace off later. So he thinks he should be annoyed by now and probably cranky too and maybe a little pissed off at the world. But he finds that he doesn’t really mind all the wandering around. And yeah, it might be due to the fact that Harry hasn’t let go of his hand for more than ten seconds since they got off the train. And even then it’s only to take a picture of him in front a colourful graffiti or with the Brains’ brewery building in the background. They’re heading opposite to the town centre so they don’t actually see much of anything but Harry’s looking at everything like he’s just found the eight wonder of the world. The boy’s ability to find amazement in the simplest things is very endearing to Louis and he wishes he could see the world through his eyes if only for a few minutes. Maybe then he could be oblivious to the way people are looking at their joined hands or take no notice of the few scowling faces when they stop to steal a kiss. And maybe it’ll get easier with time but for now he just can’t just ignore them. They take a couple more wrong turns before they finally find the hotel. He can barely hide his disappointment when he realizes that it’s still a good five minutes walk to the bay. He should have double-checked the exact location before booking the room. But Harry doesn’t seem to mind the absence of view on the waterfront so Louis supposes he’ll be okay with it too once he’ll get over the letdown.

It only takes one look at the lobby to be completely over it. The hotel looks a lot classier than he expected when he checked its prices. Harry looks just as mesmerized as he feels. He squeezes his hand to bring him out of his daze and grins when he catches his eyes. Harry beams back at him before kissing his temple. Louis might be blushing when he turns to the woman behind the counter and sees that they’re not the only ones smiling.

“Hi, we booked a room for tonight. Name’s Tomlinson.” Louis tells her and she just nods amiably before looking for their reservation on the computer. Harry drapes an arm over his shoulders to pull him closer. He doesn’t think twice before wrapping his own arm around his waist and leaning against his side. He’s never been a fan of PDA, even simple ones like holding hands, but he quite likes it with Harry. He could even forget about the judgemental souls that have tainted his happiness earlier.

“Alright you’re in room 309.” She says as she hands him the key card. “The desk’s open twenty-four hours a day so if you need anything, you can just ring us. The bar/restaurant is open till ten on the weekends and offers a great choice of food.” She explains dutifully. Louis is about to thank her when he notices the smirk pulling at her lips. He doesn’t know what to think of the change of attitude. “We offer room service too if you’d rather stay in.”

Louis coughs loudly as he chokes on his saliva and Harry’s face turns redder than a tomato. But as unprofessional and uncomfortable as the comment is, it reminds Louis that most people won’t care about who he’s sleeping with. It’s a shame that homosexuality is such a big deal in today’s society but everything that’s remotely different from an old social norm is a big deal in today’s society. It’s just the way it is. He mutters a quick thanks to the woman and slips his hands in Harry’s again before leading him to the lifts.   

“I blew a guy in an elevator once.” Harry does that sometimes. He shares titbits of his past achievements with the sort of casual tone that normal people use to talk about the weather. “I’ve always wanted to do it again.” He whispers in his ear just as the doors close behind them. So Louis groans and backs him to a corner to snog him breathless while rubbing their groins together because he can be a tease too.

 

The room’s so nice and the bed’s so comfortable that Louis reconsiders their plan to head straight to the bay. He wants to stay here and cuddle while watching crap TV. He’s willing to have a Torchwood marathon even. He’ll approve of anything but Doctor Who. He likes to think he’s quite open-minded but he can’t understand what’s so appealing about a show that has giant tin cans as its big villains. He’d watch it if Harry asked him to. He’d even pretend to enjoy it if he thought it was important to him. Proof is that he would have suffered through the Doctor Who Experience thing if their opening hours weren’t so shit. He’d do just about anything for Harry. And that is why he will get his big bum off this comfy bed and go on a romantic stroll with his friend or whatever it is that Harry is to him. They really need to put a name on it. Next week, he reminds himself again. He’ll know what to call their relationship next week.

“We’re taking a bath tonight.” Harry announces as he steps out of the bathroom and he’s flashing him with the brightest smile he’s ever seen on his face. Louis is not going to argue with him, obviously, but he really isn’t sure the bathtub is big enough to fit the both of them. He guesses he will know if he can trust his male intuition later tonight. “So what do you want to do first?”

“You.” Louis replies with a smirk that only grows wider when Harry cackle. And God, does he love that sound. He thinks about recording it sometimes and just listen to it when he feels a bit down. But then he remembers that he doesn’t need to because he has the real thing. He has Harry. And it’s pretty easy to make him laugh too. 

“What do you want to see first?” Harry reformulates with a soft smile that Louis doesn’t know how to resist so he grabs his giant hands and pulls him down on top of him. They both groan when he lands on his chest a little too heavily and sweeps all the air out of their lungs. It hurts for just a second but he still makes a mental note to never do it again.

“You naked.” He answers directly in Harry’s ear. He feels him shake his head in the crook of his check, brown locks tickling his jaw with the movement. Fuck, he hates their no-sex rule. And he knows that he’s the only one to blame for said rule to still be effective but that doesn’t stop him from hating it. But he respects it, which is why he doesn’t even try to stop Harry when he rolls off him. He feels around blindly until he finds Harry’s giant hand and intertwines their fingers. He turns his head to the side when he feels him squeeze his hand. They just stare at each other for a minute.

“The waterside.” Louis says. “I want to see the waterside.”

 

They spend the rest of the afternoon walking around the bay and, in Harry’s case, taking a ridiculous amount of pictures. Harry drags him to a strange exhibition at the Millennium Centre so he takes his revenge by taking him to the Skate Plaza. He convinces one of the kids to land him a board somehow and impresses Harry with a couple of easy tricks that he then tries to teach him but he admits defeat after just five minutes because Harry has absolutely no balance and can’t even stand straight on a moving board. How he is not complaining about a sore arse is a wonder to Louis but he makes a note to look for bruises in their bath tonight. He will kiss them all better if he has to. What a chore it will be, really. They go for a stroll on Mermaid Quay after that and Harry treats him with an ice cream. And because he wasn’t kidding when he told the brunette that he wanted to do all the lovey-dovey stuff that used to make him gag, he purposely misses his mouth when he makes him taste his ‘Choc Nut’ ice cream and licks the chocolate syrup off his nose. He knows that they are being glared at but he finds that he doesn’t mind it. And let’s be fair, he’d probably glare too if he were in these people’s shoes. Stupid happy couples that feel the need to flaunt their stupid happiness in everyone’s faces and all that jazz. They make their way back to the hotel once they’re done and just lie in bed together, their legs messily tangled together and their hands mindlessly mapping the other’s upper body. They share a few sweet kisses now and then. Neither of them tries to take things further this time. Louis wonders if Harry’s afraid they’d break the no-sex rule if they were to engage in one of their intense make-out session. The mood is most definitely right enough for sex. They had a perfect day out in a beautiful city and now they’re alone in a dazzling hotel room. He can’t help but think it’s the perfect setting for a first time. He’d love for it to be the setting to their first time. And if he didn’t regret his decision to ease Haley into the breakup before, he definitely does now.

“Let’s go on a date.” Harry says after four episodes of _How I Met Your Mother_ and the sound of his voice startles Louis who might have been dozing off for the last one or two episodes. “We could go to that fancy restaurant on Mermaid Quay, the one with the terrace? Or we could just go bowling, like whatever.”

“Didn’t you want to take a bath tonight?”

“I don’t think the bathtub will disappear while we’re out.”

There’s something in Harry’s voice that has Louis lifting his head off his chest to look at his face. He’s frowning the way he does when he concentrates too hard. Louis wonders if he’s actually considering the possibility of the bathtub running away or something of the likes. He decides that he should distract him before he hurts his head. So he swings a leg over Harry’s hips and writhes about until he’s straddling him properly.

“You should know that I don’t put out on the first date, Styles.”

“If you mean that you don’t even wait for the first date, I already knew that.”  Harry jokes and Louis’ jaw drops, quite literally too. He’s good at banter, it’s sort of his trademark, but he’s always been extra careful with Harry. He’s a lot more sensible than say Zayn or Stan. So he’s always a little scared he’ll take something he said too seriously and bang his pretty little head over it.

“You’re the one who shoved your hand down my pants.”

“You’re the one who didn’t stop me.”

“You did make a pretty strong case.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Harry laughs breathlessly. Louis bends to kiss him softly and smiles when he feels careful fingers run down his spine and rest on the small of his back. A week, he repeats in his head. A week and all of this could be an every day occurrence.

“Will you go out with me, Louis Tomlinson?” Harry asks against his lips. He’d make a perfect love interest in a romance novel, Louis thinks. Everything about their relationship would make a perfect romance novel, really. It would probably make a bestseller if they changed Louis to Louise. He should try to sell the idea around if the story gets a happy ending. He pecks his lips one more time before moving off of him and lying next to him on the mattress.

“Yeah, sure.” He shrugs. “I have nothing better to do anyway.”

Harry flicks him on the stomach for that but because there is not an ounce of nastiness in him, he quickly undermines the blow by trailing wet kisses around the red blotch. Louis thinks it’s going to be hard to go back to reality tomorrow but then he remembers that this might become part of his reality soon. And he’s more than okay with the idea.

 

Harry insists for their date to follow a very formal protocol so he gets ready first and disappear to the bar downstairs before Louis has a chance to catch a glimpse of him. He doesn't need to see him to know that he looks marvellous because he always looks like a Ralph Lauren model. He just doesn't have bad days, it seems. And it's all very unfair, really. The thing is Louis didn't plan to go on a proper date when he threw clothes in his bag so he doesn't really have anything classy to wear. His tight dark-blue jeans work for pretty much every occasion but his printed t-shirts might have him expelled from a fancy restaurant. He guesses he'll just have to cover it with Harry's sweater. Good thing the kid's so thoughtful. Unless he had it all planned from the beginning. He wouldn’t put it past him to be a sneaky dork. He wonders if he should take a shower. It feels like the thing to do for a date. But water is a precious thing nowadays and he’ll be having a bath with Harry later so he’ll just change. It’s not like he’s trying to impress Harry or anything.

So he ends up making it a quick shower to waste less water. And he spends a ridiculous amount of time on his hair too, trying to sweep his fringe the perfect way or whatever. He thinks he might have turned into a girl. He’s just about to make sure he still has a penis when there’s a knock at the door. A quick look at the time lets him know that it’s most probably Harry coming to pick him up. He runs a hand through his messily styled hair and looks at his reflection one last time before going to open the door. Harry is standing on the other side of it, his hands clasped together over a single red rose, and Louis can’t help but laugh. He’s in love with an idiot. But what a really good-looking idiot he is. He looks breathtaking in black skinny jeans that fit him sinfully perfectly and a dark red shirt with the top buttons open. Louis still doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve him.

The restaurant isn’t as fancy as they thought when they walked past it earlier but it’s still a really nice place. And they have a beautiful view from their table, right by the waterside. Louis hopes they’ll be here long enough to watch the sunset. It has to be somewhat magical to see it reflect on the water. They share opinions on the menu and use their veto on smelly dishes. Louis isn’t one to frown at garlic bread or mature cheese but he’d rather not taste it in Harry’s mouth. So he gets him to strike off the baked Camembert and promises to not choose the smoked salmon salad in return. He writes on his mental list of things about Harry that he isn’t a big fan of fish but will still eat it if it’s presented to him. Another evidence of how ridiculously nice he is. The waitress comes to take their order and tries to flirt with Harry. Louis would be jealous if he didn’t find Harry’s obliviousness so amusing. He locks his ankles behind Harry’s under the table and runs a foot up his leg, going further up with each stroke until he is stopped by a hand on his ankle. Louis huffs in mock-annoyance and crosses his arms over his chest. 

“That jumper looks really good on you.”

“Yeah, that’s why I stole it from a stupidly tall guy who refused to bang me.” Louis smirks, lacing their fingers together over the table. Harry looks offended for a whole second before he bursts out laughing. It works every time. “He did give me the best handjob of my life, though.”

“What’s a handjob?” asks a tiny voice that can only belong to a child. Louis thinks he might die of embarrassment if the water he swallowed the wrong way doesn’t do the job. He faintly hears Harry coughs awkwardly before asking the kid if he’s here with his parents but he only comes back around fully when the brunette picks up the boy to carry him back inside where his family must be. He watches him hand the child back to his mother through the glass door and stops her from yelling at her son. He kneels down to be at the kid’s level and tells him something before ruffling his hair. He shakes hands with the mum and makes his way back to their table with a grin. He kisses the top of Louis head before slipping in his seat. Louis doesn’t know how he can be real.

“You’re good with kids.”

“My mum says it’s because I’m still a kid at heart.” Harry laughs and Louis nods. He has no doubt that Harry will make a wonderful dad when the time will come. He’s known it since the day he bumped into him and Ronnie at the daycare centre. That’s if he ever wants to be a dad, of course. He loves kids, that much is clear, but maybe he doesn’t want to raise one himself.

“Do you want kids, Harry?”

“Will you ask me to knock you up if I say yes?”

“And risk to distort my beautiful body? No way!”

“I’d love to have kids of my own, yeah. I mean, I won’t fill adoption papers any time soon. I’ve only just turned twenty a few months ago after all. But in a few years if the situation allows it, I’ll look into it.”

The waitress chooses this exact moment to bring their dishes over. Louis stares at Harry as he thanks her with a friendly smile. He has to tell him about Emma. The timing might not be the best but the door is open now and he can’t just let it close again. He can’t miss another occasion to come clean.

“There’s something I have to tell you.” Louis breathes out before he can back out. “It’s something I should have told you a long time ago but I just didn’t know how to tell you and…”

“Don’t.” Harry cuts him off. Louis looks up at him with a frown. “I want to hear it, Louis. I want to hear everything you have to say, always. But we came here to forget about all the things that are holding us back at home. So whatever it is you want to tell me now, I’m sure it can wait till we’re back there.”

As much as Louis wants to scream that it just can’t wait anymore he more than understands where Harry is coming from. He did ask him to go on an impromptu adventure because he wanted to escape his reality for the weekend. And so he won’t tell him today. He probably won’t tell him tomorrow either. But he’s ready to tell him now so he won’t wait for another metaphorical door to open. He won’t wait for an occasion that might never come. Harry is still staring at him, probably waiting for him to react in some ways. So he forces a smile on his face and steals a slice of Harry’s chicken at the same time as he tangles their legs together again. They’ll be okay. He thinks.

 

The tension from Louis’ aborted confession doesn’t taint the atmosphere for too long and they quickly fall back into their usual rhythm. They talk and they banter and they laugh. They hold hands over the table and they kick each other’s shins playfully. They both feel too full after their main dish for dessert but they still share a Blueberry cheesecake, just because it feels like something couples do on dates. And they get to see the sunset from their table, which is just as beautiful as Louis expected. And because the sight makes him feel uncharacteristically romantic, he leans over the table to kiss Harry’s lips and whisper that he’s beautiful too, both inside and out. It’s stupidly cheesy but it makes a blush creeps on Harry’s pale skin so it’s okay. Harry insists to pay for both of them because he’s the one who suggested going on a proper date and it seems important to him for some reason so Louis doesn’t fight him on it, just jokes on how he’s just made him look like the girl in their relationship. They take their time to walk back to the hotel, stopping every now and then to share kisses under the moonlight. Louis feels like a teenager in love for the first time. It makes sense, he supposes, since he’s never been in love before. He never even went on a date before tonight. He shares the thought with Harry, turns it into a joke about how it’s the second first time he’s giving to him and grins when Harry blushes a deep red while telling him that he hopes it won’t be the last. He assures him that it won’t be, if only because he’s never taken a bath with someone either. What he doesn’t say is that he’s quite nervous about it. They might have had a few heated make-out sessions in the last few weeks but they’ve never seen each other naked. More like he hasn’t seen Harry naked yet as the younger lad did strip him off his clothes twice already. He wonders if he can suggest they keep their underwear on, pretend it’s all in the sake of not jumping each other or something like that. But he dismisses the thought quickly. He really likes Harry and he wants to be with Harry so he has to get used to seeing Harry naked. It doesn’t have to be such a big deal anyway. Harry won’t be the first guy he’ll see in the nude. It’s just that he’s the first he’s dying to have sex with. One day. Not tonight. He definitely is the chick in this story. Harry doesn’t say anything when they arrive at the hotel, just slips into the bathroom and runs their bath. Louis considers following him but decides to check his phone first. He doesn’t expect Haley’s parents to have Emma call him but he hopes they will at least him let him know she’s doing alright. They should know he’s going to worry about his daughter regardless of how safe their house is. They’re parents too after all. But there’s no message from them of course. So he turns his phone off for the night and walks to the bathroom. He watches Harry strip down to his briefs and fold his clothes on the toilet’s lid. He’s not as careful with his newly discarded clothes, just lets them lay on the floor. He does pick up the sweater, though, puts him with the rest of Harry’s things to keep it from getting wet if they splash water on the floor. He has every intention to steal it tomorrow so it better be dry enough to wear. Harry is completely naked when he faces him again and it is possible that his eyes pop out of their sockets at the sight. He’d make a joke about how nothing about the brunette is small but he doesn’t trust his voice to not shake and he doesn’t want to look like a nervous virgin. Harry motions at him to get in the bathtub so he does. And yeah, there’s no way they’ll both fit in it. Except they do. Harry slides him behind him, places a leg on each side of him and wraps his arms around his middle. He leans against his chest, head resting on his shoulder while Harry draws random pattern on the back of his hands. And it’s a little awkward to feel Harry’s cock against his arse but everything else feels pretty nice so it works to overshadow the weirdness. They don’t talk for a long time, just take in the moment and enjoy it. Harry drops kisses on his shoulders and neck occasionally. The position they are in doesn’t really allow him to reciprocate so he just nuzzles closer to him.

“I wish we could stay here forever.”

“We’d miss our friends and family.”

“I’m scared I won’t have anyone left to miss soon.” He admits quietly and he feels Harry’s arms tighten around him. He doesn’t say anything, though. But it’s okay. Louis is thankful for his silence, really. He doesn’t need him to remind him that they already have his mum’s approval or that Stan’s been rooting for them since the beginning. These are things he already knows. What he needs to hear right now is that he won’t lose his daughter and Harry can’t promise him that. Harry can’t even reassure him on that because he doesn’t know he has a daughter.

 “You’ll always have me.” Harry whispers against his skin. It feels like a promise, Louis thinks. So he moves until he’s at an angle that allows them to kiss properly. It doesn’t even rank in the top five of their best kisses but he thinks it might be his favourite so far anyway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra fluffy chapter can only mean one thing... A big storm is coming!
> 
> You can find me at mustbe-themusic.tumblr.com for updates, previews & to give me the always appreciated opinions on the story. (makes me write faster, remember?)


	11. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it's been a month since I last updated! I'm so sorry about that! I was at my parents' for the best part of August and took on the occasion to see old friends from school so I didn't get much time to write. I should have given you a warning but I really thought I'd manage to write more than that. So I'm sorry. And as a way to apology I decided to cut Chapter 10 in two parts to make sure you have something to read this week. It makes for a shorter chapter and a damn sad cliffhanger but it's better than nothing, yeah? Also, it's unbeta'd as my beta is busy on weekdays but I'll post the beta'd version soon.
> 
> Thank you for being patient with me, sticking with this story. Special thanks to everyone who commented, both here and on tumblr. I'm not going to name you all this time because I'm rambling enough as it is but really, it means a lot to me. Same for those of you who gave me kudos and/or bookmarked the story. 
> 
> I LOVE YOU ALL VERY MUCH.

The week following their trip to Cardiff goes both slower and faster than Louis had anticipated. If he were to give an explanation to this weird phenomenon he’d say it’s mostly due to the fact that he misses Harry just as much as he enjoys his time alone with Emma. When he learns on Monday that all of his morning classes have been cancelled in favour of issuing exams to the students, he decides to dedicate all of this new spare time to his daughter. He gets to sleep in the first couple of days, thanks to Haley’s parents handing back a very exhausted little girl. He makes them proper English breakfast too and texts a picture of his plate to Harry the first day with the caption ‘ _I didn’t burn the house down!_ ’ and Harry replies with a ‘ _looks just as yummy as you…_ ’ that makes him smile through the rest of the morning. He’s not confidant enough to cook them lunch and dinner yet. He orders takeaways, heats up frozen food and brings her to Zayn’s a couple of times. He’s doing alright, he thinks, at taking care of Emma on his own. Not that he ever doubted his ability to watch after his daughter. He’s spent enough time alone with her after work to know that he can tend to her. But it hits him in a whole different way this time. He helps him believe that everything will be fine after the split, that he’ll still be a good father to Emma even though he was such a bad boyfriend to Haley. He’s still worried about the inevitable consequences of a break-up with the mother of his child. He still fears she’ll ask for full-custody of their daughter. But he’ll go to court with the confidence of a man who knows he’s fit to be a father. He just has to hope she won’t use his relationship with another man to plead her case. There is nothing he can do against prejudices regarding homosexuals’ parenting skills. But he tries to not think about it when he’s with Emma, focuses on making the best out of this week for her. He wants to make their time together unforgettable, something she’ll still remember eighty years from now.

He’s not really sure what made him think he could go five days without seeing Harry but he only lasts about two before starting to feel withdrawals symptoms. They text all throughout the day every day, pointless messages about demanding customers that makes Harry wants to pull his luscious curls off or overpriced fruits that makes it impossible for Louis to satisfy his craving for a smoothie. And well, it’s really Emma craving a strawberry smoothie but Louis still hasn’t told Harry that he has a daughter so he can’t just mention her in a text message. He’s been thinking about ways to break the news to him since the night at the restaurant and a casual mention in a written message didn’t make the list. Neither did just showing up at the café with Emma in his arms but he still almost does it on Thursday morning. He has her all ready to go in record time, is about to start the car when his phone buzzes. It’s Zayn begging him for a reason to get out of the flat after days of revising for his finals. Louis takes it as a sign that he’s about to make a mistake, probably the biggest mistake he’ll ever make. So he takes Emma to the park instead. He watches her play with the others kids, a fond smile tugging at the corner of his lips and his phone clutched in his hands. Zayn joins them for lunch, brings Emma’s favourite sandwiches and suggests they set camp near the pond on the other side of the park to eat them. Emma loves the ducks. And she loves running after them too. Zayn helps her chase them around until they’re the ones being chased. Louis can’t stop laughing at the sound that leaves his best friend’s mouth when he realizes what’s happening. He takes a picture and sends it to Harry with the caption ‘ _Birds can’t resist these cheekbones_.’ He realizes a little too late that Emma’s in the picture too, laughing in Zayn’s arms as he protects her from the revengeful duck. It’s his life, he thinks. It has always been his life and it will always be his life. And he wants to share it all with Harry, he does. So maybe it’s not such a bad thing. There are better ways to tell the guy you’re dating that you have a kid but he thinks there must be worst ways too. He feels his heart relocate in his throat while he waits for Harry to answer. And when he does, there’s no mention of the little girl in Zayn’s arms. There’s only a joke about how even straight lads would go mad for a face like Zayn’s. Louis can’t help the jealousy that takes control of his mind at the comment and he has to bite down a reply about how he could just seduce him if he thinks so high of him. He’s quite good at turning straight guys into queers after all. But he knows it’s uncalled for. Harry never forced him into anything, never asked him to reconsider his entire life. He never asked to be the one opening Louis’ eyes on the big lie that was his life up until they met. He feels his phone buzz again and looks down to see a second text from Harry. _‘Don’t be jealous. His perfect bones structure has nothing on your arse.’_

The last day before Haley’s return seems to drag on forever. It might be because he wakes up too early to be fresh and goes to bed too late to rest properly. He’s antsy, his mind going a mile a minute. He doesn’t even have classes to distract himself, not enough students bothering to come on the very last day of school. He thinks about running to the café and tugging Harry upstairs to make-out until he has to go pick up Emma. But he has to stay on school ground just in case so he texts him instead, tells him how bored he is and tries to convince him to sneak into school. Harry would have climbed all the fences, he says, if he didn’t have a wedding cake to finish for the next day. So Louis kicks the ball with a couple of other teachers and listens to them talk about their plans for the summer. He tells them about his own plans too; about moving out of the house he shares with Haley and settling into a new life that he’s yet to figure out. He wants to tell them about Harry too but he doesn’t even mention him. He’s not scared to admit that he’s in love with a man, that’s not why he keeps quiet. No, it’s because he doesn’t know if he’ll stick around once the truth out. He wants him too, maybe even needs him to, but he can’t be sure of what Harry will do. And he doesn’t want to fall from too high so he doesn’t try to guess either. He calls Harry once Emma’s in bed, for no reason other than he wants to hear his voice. So he lets him do most of the talking, listens to his incredibly long and mostly pointless stories until they lull him to sleep. He misses him more than he imagined possible. And he tells him as much but only because the words are out of his mouth before he can stop them. It’s just a few more hours, Harry reminds him, and then they’ll be back together for good. Louis can’t help but smile at that.

He doesn’t catch an ounce of sleep that night, just lays in bed and stares at the ceiling. He doesn’t know how to break-up with Haley, mostly because he never had to end a relationship before. He knows all about the clichés lines but he doesn’t want to use them on her. It doesn’t matter if most of them apply to their situation. It doesn’t matter if he really is the one to blame for the split or if he truly believes they were always meant to be just friends. She deserves better than platitudes. He owes her better than a trite breakup. So he doesn’t know what to tell her. He wants to be honest with her. He wants to tell her everything. He shouldn’t, he knows. He shouldn’t tell her that he’s already seeing the guy he’s leaving her for, that he’s been seeing him for about a month already. He won’t keep Harry a secret. He’s so done with secrets now. But he can’t hurt her like that either. He has to tell her, though. He has to tell her that he fancies another man. He has to give her all the cards from the start, can’t afford keeping things from her and having her find out about it later. So he decides to do what he does best and just keep the lines blurry enough that he can’t be accused of lying. He won’t hide that he met someone, a guy, who he wants to have a relationship with but he won’t reveal that he’s started said relationship almost a month ago. He sighs loudly, running a hand over his face in frustration. He should have ended things with Haley a long time ago, probably even before Harry stepped into his life. Maybe he shouldn’t have let it start at all. He always knew that it couldn’t work out, only he expected Haley to be the one leaving him for someone else. She’d have dealt with this whole mess better than he did, he’s sure of it. Another thing he’s quite sure of is that he’ll only have himself to blame when things will go sour. He looks at the clock and decides to move to the living room. He wants to have it all done and over with by the time Emma wakes up. He supposes it’ll be hard enough to have this conversation without adding interruptions from their daughter. He makes himself a cup of tea and settles in front of the TV. He’s halfway through a rerun of Jeremy Kyle when he hears the creaky sound of their entry door. So he turns the TV off and walks down the corridor to greet her.

“Hey, babe.” Louis smiles, kissing her cheek as he takes the suitcase from her. He’s about to break-up with her, the least he can do is carry her suitcase to the laundry room. He’d probably wash her clothes too if he knew how to work the machine. But he reckons doing the laundry can’t and won’t reduce the blow that is the news of him leaving for another man. “How was your flight?”

“It was alright. Long.” She answers, her words muffled by the cushion she face-planted onto. Louis just stares at her from the doorway for a minute. She looks so tired, defenceless. He considers waiting a few more hours to break-up with her, reasons that it won’t hurt anybody any more if he does it later today rather than right now. But it might. And it’ll be harder to talk once Emma will be awake. So he takes in a deep breath and goes to sit on the armrest next to her head, stuffing his hands in his pockets to not scrap her scalp like he did so many times before.

“Hals, there’s something I have to tell you. I wish I knew the right way to do this. I wish I knew what to say and how to say it. But I don’t. I spent hours trying to figure it out but I couldn’t find words that would make this any easier. I don’t think they exist, to be honest. So maybe the best thing to do is to just say it.” He rambles in a single breath, voice shaking with nerves and eyes cast on the floor. He should tell her to sit up. He should look at her, at least. But he can’t. So he just takes in a deep breath and tells her what he should have told her weeks ago. “I think it’s time for us to accept that we will never make each other happy. We will never love each other, not in the way we both deserve at least. I want to be in love with the person I’m with, Haley. And I think you want the same thing. So I guess what I’m trying to say is that we should split.”

His words are met by silence only but he’s not surprised. He sort of expected her to be rendered speechless. He knows he’d have been if the roles were reversed. So he waits for her to find her voice again, fidgets with his fingers nervously. The weight on his chest grows with each passing seconds, so much he fears it might crush him soon. So he musters the courage to look at her.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” He laughs without humour. Haley’s eyes are closed, her breathing even. She fell asleep at some point during his ramblings. He thinks he might cry at the situation but he opts for grabbing the plaid on the back of the couch instead and drapes it over her body. He turns the lights off and walks back to the bedroom. He flops on the bed heavily, blindly grabs his phone on the nightstand and scrolls thought his contacts list. He needs to find someone to babysit Emma for a few hours, someone who won’t ask too many questions.

 

Louis’ first call is to Zayn, an obvious choice considering he’s the only one he trusts with his daughter that lives in Manchester. But he has finals coming up and can’t afford a break in his revisions, not when he’s so stressed about them. He will most probably face the same issue with Stan so he doesn’t even try to talk him into coming to Manchester for the weekend. So he calls his mum, explains why he needs someone to watch Emma while he talks to Haley and begs her to not bring the girls. The last thing he needs today is for his younger sisters to fire questions at him, which is something Lottie has made a habit of since she found out about Harry. She seems to be fascinated by the mess that is his love life lately. It sort of worries him. But he can’t think about it right now. He can’t allow his mind to go all over the place. He has less than two hours to find a plausible explanation to the fact that his mum’s driving all the way to Manchester just to take her granddaughter to the park for a couple of hours. He doesn’t want Haley to be too suspicious, just needs her to be apprehensive enough to not fall asleep again. And he’ll go straight to the point this time, get the words out so fast she won’t have time to pass out on him. That’s what he should have done earlier. He should have told her that he wanted to split straight up, not beat around the bushes like he did. He could be with Harry right now, if he’d done this right. He’d probably be apologizing for all the lies at that point and Harry would probably be shoving him out of the door but he’d be talking to him at least. He’d be able to look at him, touch him. He’s so stupidly gone for the guy it can’t be healthy. He’s at a point where he’s not sure he’ll remember how to function without him. But that’s another thing he can’t think about right now. He has to make things right again before he can worry about the consequences of his mistakes. But he really wants to talk to Harry still. He tries to remember if he’s working today, considers calling him just to hear his voice. He thinks it might help, gives him strength or whatever. But he doesn’t want to come across as desperate, not yet at least. So he puts his phone back on the nightstand and rolls out of bed. He might as well pack his stuff now, while everyone’s asleep. It’s one thing he doesn’t have to put off till the right time comes along. He doesn’t have to wait for his conversation with Haley to be over. He’s going to leave anyway. He’s going to move out of the house and move on with his life. So he reaches for the largest suitcase on top of the wardrobe and starts to fill it with his things. He wonders if his mum will mind taking some of it back to Doncaster, at least until he finds his own flat. He should rent a storage room while he looks for an apartment, keep most of his stuff there instead of asking his mum to bring it back to Doncaster. But it would have been a waste of money, maybe, probably. He doesn’t have much to store anyway, just gadgets and knickknacks. And he’ll get his own flat soon, he hopes. He can’t really afford to crash on Zayn’s couch for too long, not if he wants to see his daughter more than a few hours every now and then. Maybe he should have thought this through a little more, like maybe he could have started looking for a place before moving out. That would have been a smart move, indeed. He kind of feels like he forgot how to use his brain when he started fancying Harry. It’s the curls, he’s sure, and the eyes. It’s a fatal combination and he blames it for all of the mistakes he made these last few months. But he doesn’t, not really. No, Harry might be the reason why he questioned his entire life but he’s definitely not the reason why he made all the wrong decisions. These are all on him, only him.

“Daddy? We go somewhere?”

Louis turns around to see Emma standing in the doorway, stuffed bunny tightly clutched in her little first and eyes cast on the suitcase resting next to the bed. He smiles, scoops her up and kisses her temple. He’s not ready to explain this to her just yet. And he thinks it’s something he should do with Haley anyway.

“It’s too early for you to be awake, little Bugs.” He informs, gently tapping her nose. She scrunches her nose and looks behind him, straight through the opened window. And he knows what she’s going to say even before the words are fully formed in her mind.

“But I see sun, Daddy.” She says with a cute little pout she definitely inherited from her mother. Louis laughs quietly, kisses her forehead and sits her on the edge of the bed. He watches as her eyes flicker to the suitcase next to her and her eyebrow knit together. He wonders if she understands what’s happening to her parents’, if she realizes they’re not as happy s they pretend to be in front of her.

“If you go back to your room and play quietly for a bit longer, I’ll take you out for breakfast.” He offers to take her mind off of his packed clothes. She considers the proposition for about two seconds and he thinks she may be seeing right through his scheme but then he remembers that she’s not even three yet. She sighs over dramatically before nodding in agreement. He holds out his hand to seal the deal with a shake but she kisses his cheek, sauntering back to her room soon after. He stares at the door she just walked through for a few minutes, a small smile on his lips. He hopes the split won’t affect her the way his parents’ affected him, hopes she won’t feel like he’s leaving her too. She’s the most precious gift life ever gave him and he can’t bear the idea that she might ever think he didn’t love her. He’ll make sure to tell her how lucky to call her his daughter every chance he gets.

 

Louis has just enough time to fill two suitcases and get dressed before he hears the soft paddling of his daughter in the corridor. He looks at the clock on his phone and realizes that a whole hour has gone by since he sent her back to her room. She lasted longer than he expected her to. He zips up the suitcase quickly and hides it under the bed. He wanted to put them into his car before having to take care of Emma, didn’t want Haley to find them and understand what he’s about to do. It feels too much like an overused ruse and he’s not that big of a coward. He guesses he’ll have to find another way to keep them from her. He could probably sneak them in the trunk after he has tucked her in. She won’t be able to see what he’s putting in there so she won’t ask too many questions. He’ll just have to make up stories about faeries and lost boys. She loves when he plays out Peter Pan’s adventures in Neverland. And he really doesn’t mind making a fool out of himself when it’s to make her smile. He spins around to greet his daughter with a smile that she returns instantly. He’s going to miss the sight of her in the morning. He wishes he could take her with him. He really hopes everything will be okay and he will not have to fight Haley to be in Emma’s life. He will do it, of course he will. He just hopes he won’t have to. She changed off her Strawberry Shortcake’s pyjamas and on a candyfloss pink dress. He notices the flashy yellow tights in her hand and sighs quietly. He doesn’t agree with her fashion sense, if it can even be called that. But he sits her on the bed and helps her put them on regardless.

“I’m hungry, Daddy.” Emma says, standing up on the mattress to wrap her short arms around his neck. Louis lifts her up and settles her on his hip, an arm under her bum for support and a hand combing through her hair. She’s growing out of her baby hair already, the blonde strands darkening and the curls straightening. He thinks now is as good a time as ever to freeze time and stop her from growing up. She dresses herself weirdly, granted, but she’s potty trained and she talks English almost fluently now.

“I guess I better feed you then.” Louis sighs, kissing the tip of her nose to hear her giggle again. He loves the sound of her laughter. It makes everything so much better, so much brighter and happier. She makes him happier. He’s going to miss hearing her laugh every day.

“Mummy comes with us?” Emma asks as they walk past her mother’s sleeping form, her tiny brows furrowed together again. Louis thinks about it, considers letting her wake Haley up and ask her to join them for breakfast. He’d like to give her this, one last happy memory of them as a family. But he can’t. He’s afraid it’ll confuse her more than it’ll help her.

“Just you and me, Bugs.” He murmurs, slipping on his shoes as best as he can without dropping her. He fastens the seatbelt for her, kisses her forehead again and tells her he’s just going to grab her shoes. He sneaks the suitcases out of the house and into the trunk as quietly as he can, goes back inside to get Emma’s shoes and leave a note for Haley to find when she’ll wake up.

 

They decide to go to the Starbucks near Piccadilly Gardens because Emma loves their triple chocolate muffins and Louis thinks their Chai tea isn’t half bad. He gives her a piggyback ride from the car to the café, pretending to fall over a couple of times just to hear her laugh. He wants to record her laughter and play it in a loop all day every day. He sets her down at a table near the back, gives her an empty notebook with a box of coloured pencils and tells her to not move while he goes to order their breakfast. He trusts her, knows she’s not one to wander around or leave with strangers, but he’s still relived to see he can keep an eye on her from the counter. He orders a signature hot chocolate with a triple chocolate muffin for Emma, knowing that he will hate himself for giving her so much sugar but wanting to make her smile. It’s the least he can do when he’s just about to break her little heart. He stares at the buttermilk pancakes with envy but settles for a simple scone when he remembers Emma rarely finishes her muffin. He balances their order on the small tray provided by the cashier, careful to not spill a single drop of their drinks as he carries it to their table. Emma makes grabby hands at the muffin, squealing rather loudly in the half empty coffee shop. Louis looks at her sternly, hands linked over the table as he waits for her to calm down. She sighs dramatically, rolls her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest. She’s giving him a bit of an attitude, he knows, but he still has to fight the smile that threatens to split his face in two. She reminds him so much of himself sometimes.

“Can I have my muffin, please?” She asks in perfect English. He’s not going to lie, it makes his heart swell with pride whenever his not-quite-three-year-old daughter manages to formulate a sentence better than some of the teenagers he sees every day. He can only hope she won’t talk like them in a few years. He gives her the muffin and watches her shove a big bites of it in her mouth while he blows on her hot chocolate. She eats a good half of the extra-caloric treat before turning her attention back to her drawing.

“So Grandma Jay’s coming to see us today and I thought we could take her to see your new school. Maybe we could show her the playground down the street too, stay there for a bit and try the games.”

“All the games? The swings too?” Emma asks, voice hopeful and eyes glistening. Louis nods as he puts the lid back on the cup and places it next to her muffin. “I will touch the sky with my toes today.”

And she sounds so confident that he can only smile at her. He sits further back on his chair, elbows resting on the armrest as he holds his mug close to his chest. He wants to feel like he’s flying too. That’s sort of how he feels when he’s with Harry, he realizes. He feels like he could fly. He feels happy and free as a bird. He gets his phone out of his pocket and opens a new text message, ready to be the kind of guy who can’t go a few hours without talking to his possible boyfriend. He finishes typing it when he notices Emma pushing her latest drawing on his side of the table, a big grin on her face. He frowns at the blurry lines, not completely sure to know what she tried to represent with them.

“It’s you and me, Daddy.”

Louis hears a clatter from somewhere behind him, like a plate hitting the tiles and breaking in a million pieces. He swivels on his chair to see what happened, maybe ask if he can help collecting the pieces of ceramic. He feels his lips part slightly, feels the words on the tip of his tongue. But the only sound that comes out of his mouth is a loud gasp. Or maybe it’s a quiet sob. He sure feels like crying right now; crying and screaming. He wants to yell how shitty life is recently, how unfair it is to pull this stunt now. He just needed a few more hours. He was going to tell Harry everything in just a few hours. But now he won’t have to tell him anything. Because he’s standing right in front of him, pale green eyes travelling between Emma and Louis at the speed of light. And Louis is stuck in some sort of limbo, frozen on his seat and unable to do anything. There’s a lump in his throat blocking all the things he wants to say, all the honest apologies and stuttered explanations.

“Grandma Jay!” Emma shouts happily, jumping off her seat and rushing into her grandmother’s arms. Louis can’t even spare a glance at them, eyes quite literally glued to Harry’s. He’s always loved his eyes. He loves how they change colours depending on the weather, going from the deep green he knows so well by now to the light blue he’s still getting accustomed with. He loves how honest they are, how truth-telling. He can tell what he’s feeling, what he’s thinking, just by looking into his big doe eyes. What he doesn’t love, however, is what he’s seeing in them right now. He’s distressed, hurt and sad. He feels betrayed. Louis has never hated himself more than he does right. He stands up and reaches out, wanting to hold him until he doesn’t look so broken anymore. But he steps back, shakes his head and turns around.  Louis doesn’t have to think about what to do next. He just follows his instinct and rushes after him, whisking past his mother and daughter on his way out of the coffee shop. He sees the questions in his mum’s eyes but he can’t give her answers now. He has to catch Harry. He has to explain everything to him. It can’t wait anymore. It might be his only chance to tell him the truth.

“Harry, wait!” He calls out, faintly hoping Harry will slow down but knowing he won’t. So he speeds up, ignores the ache in his knee and grabs his elbow to stop him. “I can explain, Harry. Please, let me explain.”

“I don’t want to hear it, Louis. I don’t want to hear any more lies from you.” Harry says as he shakes Louis off. His voice is shaking slightly and his eyes are watering with unshed tears. And Louis wants to crawl in a rabbit hole and never come up ever again. But he has to fix this first. He has to wipe the pained expression Harry’s harbouring right now, somehow.

“I’m so sorry, Harry.” He starts, a feeble attempt to keep him from leaving again. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I wanted to tell you. I tried to tell you, I just…”

“When?” Harry interrupts coldly. “When exactly did you try to tell me you had a fucking daughter? Because it’s been six fucking months since we met and I don’t recall you even mentioned a fucking kid. So please, enlighten me.”

“When we were in Cardiff. At the restaurant.”

“Is it the only time?”

Louis nods slowly. It isn’t the only time he thought about telling him but it is the only time he came close to doing it; the only time he truly intended to go through with it. Harry’s eyes are clouded with disappointment now, along with hints of the pain and betrayal that have been there since he heard Emma call Louis ‘Daddy’. His eyes are burning, tears pricking and begging to be set free. But he’s not allowed to cry. He’s the one who messed up so he’s not allowed to cry.

“I can’t pretend to be okay with you lying to me, Louis.” Harry whispers softly, repeating the words he used when he found out about Haley. It feels like a lifetime ago. So much happened since. So much has changed. It was a lifetime ago. “I don’t think I can forgive you this time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the way I ended this chapter!!!! I promise you won't have to wait too very long for the next part. It'll most probably be up some time this weekend, monday at the latest. 
> 
> As usual, con-crit are welcomed with open arms. It's motivating, helps me write faster when I have time to sit on the computer.


	12. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here comes Chapter 12, finally!!! At least it didn't take a month this time around, right?
> 
> As I cut chapter 11 short to post it before next year, this version of chapter 12 isn't the one that was included in my original plan. So I decided to experiment a bit and write it in Harry's POV. I hope it will help make you forget how rubbish Chapter 11 was. 
> 
> Thanks go to EchoedCreativity, Bookbee, nyxy, DanielleElizza, sidley, Melanie and justfortonightbabe for the comments on Chapter 11. And thanks to whomever gave kudos & bookmarked ADL. It means a lot to me, really.
> 
> PS: This is unbeta'd again, sorry. I will post corrected version as soon as I get it back.

There’s sunlight bathing the entire room when Harry wakes up, too intense and too bright. He should probably get rid of the poor excuse of a curtain he hung up the window all these years ago. They don’t block much of anything anyway. They do prevent his neighbours from seeing his naked butt every morning, though. He should probably keep them up after all, at least until he buys thicker ones. He shouldn’t have drunk so many cocktails last night. It’s been such a very long time since he last got properly hammered that he forgot how painful a hangover could be. He feels like death. He needs food, preferably greasy. But it would require opening his eyes and moving too. And he’s not sure he can do that. He’s quite certain he can’t, actually. He will never drink anything stronger than beer again. He’s banishing the names of all these colourful cocktails’ from his vocabulary. He shuffles about to turn on his stomach and bury his head deeper into the pillow. But he lands on the floor instead, his face hitting what feels like a carpet. There’s no carpet in his bedroom.

It's a struggle but he manages to open one eye. He can't see much from his spot on the floor but he seems to have fallen off a couch and onto an ugly green rug. There are no curtains on the big window above the couch, which explains the abundance of light. It requires a fair amount of strength and just as much pain in his stiff neck for him to turn his head on the other side. The new sight doesn't help much in figuring out where he is. He can't have followed a stranger home. He just can't have done that. He stopped spending the night with strangers months ago. When he met Louis, pretty much. He smiles at the thought of his not-so-secret boyfriend. Or he hopes he is his boyfriend, at least. They haven't talked about it yet, what with Louis already being with someone and taking his sweet time breaking up with her. But today is the day. She's coming back from wherever it is she was all week and he's going to end it, finally. He promised. And it's a promise he better keep because Harry doesn't know how much longer he can bear being the other one. Not much longer, he reckons. He can barely look at himself in the mirror these days, hates to know he's helping Louis cheat. But he just couldn’t stay away from him. He could have waited for him to be single to act on his feelings. He would have been fine with being just friends for a while longer. He would have been fine with only being friends forever, he thinks. But luckily he won’t have to live with the burden of unrequited love. Well, unless the reason why he’s waking up in a foreign place is because he had apparently-not-so-memorable sex with some guy. Then again Louis can’t really hold a one-night stand against him. He’s the one who had a long-term girlfriend waiting for him to come home while they were busy fooling around in his apartment.

The thing is, he didn’t drink enough to forget any parts of last night. He’s quite certain he remembers everything from the day before. It was a boringly normal day up. He worked all day, talked to Louis on the phone for over an hour and followed Niall on a pub-crawl. They ended up joining Liam and Danielle at a club downtown somehow. And it was great. It was fun. It felt a lot like old times, like before Louis and his complications. It was nice to just be with his friends for once, enjoy their company without fearing to get caught snogging Louis senseless in a dark corner. But he missed him, anyway. He missed the warmth of his body when they sit closer than strictly necessary and the tingles in his fingertips when they touch under the table. He really needs to have sex soon. It isn’t what happened last night, obviously. He wouldn’t be waking up in the living room if he had had any. He searches through his memories to find the missing piece of the puzzle. The last thing he recalls is leaving the club with Liam and Danielle. Right. Danielle. He’s at Danielle’s. He was too pissed to walk all the way back to his flat so she made him crash on her couch. He thinks he’d have preferred spending the night under a bridge, thinks he could have handled the cold concrete of a sidewalk better than the knowledge that Liam moan like a porn star. He wishes he’d drunk enough to pass out and not hear these noises. Or that he’d drunk less and went home. That would have worked too.

He sits up with a groan, resting his back against the couch and his head between his knees. He’s feeling quite nauseous right now, like he’s not completely sure he can make it home without throwing up in a gutter multiple times. But he has to go home. He told Louis that he’d be there all day, possibly emptying a drawer or two for him to put his clothes in. He knows it’s too early in their relationship to even think about moving in together, he’s not that big of a romantic idiot, but he can’t see anything wrong with offering him a place to stay until he finds his own apartment. They will probably be spending most nights together anyway. They can do that now. They can hold onto each other all night and they don’t have to feel guilty about it. He wants that. He really wants that.

“Good morning, Styles.” Danielle greets him, smirking like the tiny devil she is. He might have to remind himself that he likes her. She’s always nice to him and she makes Liam happy. So he just groans, thinks it’s better than to try and strangle her. Liam loves her and he’d never forgive him for killing her. He hears her laugh as she disappears into the kitchen. He rests his forehead against his bony knees again and takes in a couple of deep breaths. He waits for the new wave of nausea to go away before he gets up on wobbly legs to join her. “How’s your head?”

“Painful. Yours?”

“It’s quite alright.” She shrugs, hitting the power button on the high-tech coffee machine Liam bought for her birthday. She’s a big fan of coffee, prefers it to tea. He doesn’t understand how that’s even possible but he learned to not question it.

“Thanks for letting me sleep here, by the way.”

“My couch is always happy to be of used.”

Harry watches as she looks through what appears to be almost empty cupboards, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. She’s whistling a tune he vaguely recognizes, moving her body along to the beat in her head. He couldn’t have found a better match for Liam. She’s good for him, keeps him grounded but still helps loosen him up. She’s also the biggest sarcastic witch he’s ever met but it’s okay because she only bites when she’s attacked. She reminds him a lot of Louis in that. Or Louis reminds him a lot of her. It works both ways.

“I should probably get going.” He says, breaking through his own thoughts when he catches sight of the time. Louis said he’d talk to his girlfriend as soon as she got home so he should be at the café at the usual time, which means he might already be there. He knows Emily will give him the spare key to his flat if he’s not there to do it himself but he’d really like to be the one giving the key to his place to his boyfriend. It feels important.

“Are you in a rush, Styles? Do you have to get ready for something special? Are you finally going to do the dirty with Lover Boy?” Danielle smirks against the ceramic of her mug. Harry fights the urge to groan at her, opts for rolling his eyes instead and walks out of the kitchen. He hears the footsteps behind him and he knows she’s going to tease him even before she’s formed the first sentence in her head. It’s just the way she is.

“I’m going to leave and never come back.” Harry warns as he slips on his shoes and grabs his jacket from the coat hanger. They both know he doesn’t mean it. She’s not just his best mate’s girlfriend. She’s his friend too, for some strange reason. And he’ll always come to her for advices on how to make a relationship work. She is, after all, the only girl he knows who managed to keep a man. Well, with Emily but she’s from another generation so she doesn’t count.

“Do you think he’s a bottom or a top? I hope he’s a bottom, honestly. It’d be such a waste of a perfect arse otherwise.”

“I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“Are you a top? I think you’d make a great top. I mean, I’ve seen you naked before and you have one hell of a…”

“Goodbye Dani.” Harry cuts her off, feeling all of the blood rushing to his face. He kisses her cheek and steps out of the apartment, hastily shutting the door behind him. He can’t hear her laugh from the corridor but he knows she’s bent over on the other side of the door. He might need new friends.

 

Harry looked at the apartments on this side of town once. He’d overheard Paul and Emily talk about extending the café to the first floor so he’d started looking for a new place, just in case. But he’d quickly realized that he couldn’t afford the cheapest flats here. And anyway, it would have been quite a bother to live so far from his workplace. He’s reminded of that every time he goes out late and has to walk back home. It takes him long enough to walk across town on normal days but he feels especially dizzy today and his legs are still a little shaky. He needs to get rid of this extremely painful headache if he wants to make it home in one piece. He needs greasy food and litters of tea. He decides luck must be on his side for once because he spots a Starbucks not too far from the gardens. He should probably feel guilty about spending his money on the competition but their sandwiches are almost as magical as his chocolate chips bread and he just really needs to do something about his hangover. So he swallows the guilt down and walks to the coffee shop. The weather’s pretty nice for once so he thinks about telling Louis to join him at Piccadilly Gardens. It could be their first official date. He quite likes the idea of waiting for him at the station and putting a chaste kiss on his lips when he gets off the train. He’d also really like to walk around the gardens and across town holding his hand without fear of being seen. And it’d be a lot nicer to go home with his boyfriend rather than alone. He’s smiling when he takes his phone out and opens his conversation with Louis. He wants to surprise him at the train station so he’s not going to tell him that he’s around Piccadilly. He’ll just ask when he should expect him. It’s simple enough that he won’t catch the nervousness behind the question. He trusts Louis, knows that he cares about him and wants to be with him. But there’s always doubts nagging at the back of his head, a quiet voice reminding him that he’s taking too long to end things with a girlfriend he claims to not be happy with. It’s okay, though. The metaphorical voice of doubts won’t have any reason to live in his brain after today so he’s going to happily destroy it with a metaphorical hammer. He puts his phone back into his jeans’ pocket to look at the sandwiches. He opts for a roasted chicken sandwich and buttermilk pancakes because he’s just that hungry right now. He doesn’t have time to look for an empty table before the barista asks him what he wants. The barista looks annoyed as he stutters his order so he orders an overly complicated beverage to irritate him even more. He’s vaguely aware of the fact that he’s being one of those customers Jade and Michael complain about so often but he can’t find it in himself to care. The guy totally deserves it for looking so unimpressed when someone struggles to get words out.

He walks to the end of the counter with a proud smirk and takes in his surroundings while he waits for his drink. The place isn't anything special, looks much like all the other Starbucks he stepped in over the years. This is why he couldn't work in a worldwide brand coffee shop. It lacks identity and warmth. And they don't bake, only take wrappers off and align food behind a glass. He scans the room quickly, searches for a table or a sofa. His eyes land on a familiar face instead and his lips curve into a smile. And he should probably wonder what he's doing at a coffee shop by Piccadilly Gardens when he should be on his way to Emily's café. He should also wonder what he's doing with a kid and why she looks so achingly familiar. But he doesn't stop to question anything. He puts the overflowing mugs on the small brown tray and walks in direction of Louis' table, his heart light with happiness.

"It's you and me, Daddy."

Harry stops dead in his tracks. He must have heard wrong. He must have misunderstood the last word. Louis doesn't have a daughter. He would have told him. He would have said something about her. It's been six months since his birthday. They've known each other for six months. He can't have kept this secret for six months. Except he did. It only takes a look at the little girl's to know she's Louis' kid. She has his eyes, his expressions. He lied to him. Louis lied to him. He kept a kid from him. He has never been honest with him. The realization makes him drop his tray, the plate and mug hitting the tiled floor with a clatter. Louis spins around, his smile dropping as he recognizes Harry. A strangled noise escapes his lips but Harry can't look at him right now. He's such an idiot, a fool.

"Grandma Jay!" The little girl exclaims, disappearing from Harry's sight soon after. Louis is staring at him with pleading eyes but he doesn't say a word. Harry thinks it's too late to say anything anyway. So he leaves. He runs out of the coffee shop before Louis can try to explain. He walks as fast as he can with his wobbly legs and pigeon toes, careful to not stumble over his own feet. He's humiliated enough, doesn't need to add an embarrassing fall to the list.

"I can explain, Harry. Please, let me explain." Louis says, slim fingers closing around Harry's elbows. And it's to much for Harry. He doesn't want Louis touching him, not anymore, not after he lied to him for six months. So he shrugs him off and takes a step back.

"I don't want to hear it, Louis. I don't want to hear anymore lies from you." He hates how his voice wavers and how his eyes burn. He doesn't want to give Louis the satisfaction of seeing him cry. He's stronger than that. Except for how he's really not that strong. So he turns around, ready to walk away again, ready to leave Louis for good.

"I'm so sorry, Harry. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I wanted to tell you. I tried to tell you, I just..."

"When?" He cuts him off. It's all it takes for him to not scream in the middle of the street. "When exactly did you try to tell me you had a fucking daughter? Because it's been six fucking months since we met and I don't recall you even mentioned a fucking kid! So please, enlighten me."

"When we were in Cardiff. At the restaurant." Louis answers, voice barely above a whisper and eyes full of regrets. Harry remembers the night, every details of it. And he remembers Louis saying he needed to tell him something, remembers stopping him because he wanted to keep the moment perfect. He wanted the whole weekend to be perfect. And it was. He'd thought life couldn't get any better than that. He should have let him talk. He should have listened to him. He'd have preferred to hear it from Louis rather than finding out by accident. But it wouldn't have changed much. It would still have been six months too late.

"Is it the only time?" He asks. He needs to know. He needs to know if Louis ever thought about being honest with. Louis nods slowly, almost imperceptibly, and it feels like his heart is breaking into a million pieces. He doesn't know him. He has never known him. He fell in love with a stranger and the realization stings more than a little.

"I can't pretend to be okay with you lying to me, Louis." He says. He wants to say more. He wants to tell him how he would have tried to understand if it was the first time he’d kept something important from him and how he could have been fine with him keeping a secret if he’d told him the truth before they started this relationship of sort. But he didn’t even think of telling him before they’d been together a whole month. "I don't think I can forgive you this time."

 

Harry knows heartbreak. He knows about the excruciating pain and the endless darkness. He knows about the total loss of hope and beliefs in good things. It's agony. But it's nothing compared to what he's feeling right now. He isn't sad or hurt. He's not even disappointed anymore. He's just an empty shell now, numb and devoid of all emotions. He sees the way Ronnie looks at him, cautious and uncertain.

He understands. He knows it must be strange for her to see him like this, sitting on her mother's dusty couch and staring into space. It must be scary. He's always so happy around her, always smiling so big at her she can poke his dimples. He shouldn't have come here. But he didn't know where else to go, didn't know who else to talk to. Sarah's his best friend, she knows him better than anyone else. She knows what to tell him and how to tell him. And she's a mum too. Maybe she can help him makes sense of Louis' actions. Maybe she knows why he kept quiet about his daughter for so long. Maybe she can tell him why he made him fall in love with him but was never completely honest with him. These are the things he wants to know, the things he'd ask Louis if he could bear the idea of seeing him again. And yeah, it's possible his eyes aren't as dry as he thought. He closes his eyes and buries his face in his hands. He doesn't want Ronnie to see him cry. It's bad enough that she has to see him be so miserable. He hears Sarah whispers to her daughter, asking her to go play in her room for a bit and promising to get her when they’re done talking. He doesn’t feel like talking. He doesn’t feel like doing anything. But he could do with a pint of ice cream, he thinks, and a couple of sad movies. Or he could go out with Niall and get hammered again. He could pick up some guy at the club and fuck him till morning. He wouldn’t feel any better the next day but he would forget about everything for a few hours. He would forget about Louis. He wants to forget about Louis.

"Alright, this can go one of two ways only.” Sarah sighs as she sits next to him, the couch dipping uncomfortably. He makes a quiet promise to buy her a new one as soon as he can afford it. “Either you tell me what happened willingly or I coax it out of you, possibly using my legendary strength.”

“I always thought fate played a big part in my relationship with Louis. I mean, there are dozens of coffee shops in Manchester but he walked into mine. And it’s like, what were the chances of that? What were the chances he’d be at the café on the afternoon of my birthday when he only ever came in the morning? What were the chances he’d be going to my birthday party? What were the chances I’d bumped into him again when I went to pick up Ronnie?”

Harry trails off and laughs at the memory. Louis never told him what he was doing at the daycare centre. He asked but Louis avoided answering. He deflected so he wouldn’t have to lie. And Harry just realized that he did it all the time. He should have seen it. He should have realized something wasn’t right. He’s such an idiot. He’s not laughing anymore.

“He has a kid, Sarah. He has a kid and he didn’t tell me. I only found out because I got so drunk last night I had to crash at Dani’s and I woke up with such a terrible hangover and I felt too weak to walk home without eating first so I went to grab a sandwich and he was there. And there was this little girl with him. She can’t be older than Ronnie but I thought she was one of his sisters anyway. I just… how could I have known? He never mentioned a daughter! He never told me! I only know about her because fate decided to strike again!”  

Sarah doesn’t say anything, just holds him close and lets him soak her t-shirt with his tears. And it’s all so ridiculous. He is so ridiculous. He’s crying over a guy he wasn’t even dating properly, mourning a relationship that was never totally real. He shouldn’t have come here. He should have gone to Niall and he should have asked him to get him drunk. He could have blamed the excessive wailing on the alcohol instead of on his weak heart. He takes in a couple of deep breaths to get his breathing under control and stop the absurd flow of tears. He’s not going to cry anymore. He’s going to be strong and he’s going to pull through. He sniffles one last time before pulling out of Sarah’s embrace. He looks at her through his watery eyes, sees the ways she purses her lips and he knows she won’t help him make sense of what Louis did.

“I know you think I have all the answers you’re looking for because I’m a young parent myself but I don’t know why Louis didn’t tell you he had a kid. I don’t know how he managed to keep her a secret for so long.” She admits. “What I do know, however, is that relationships are so much more complicated when there’s a kid involved. You can’t just dive in, take blind risks and say fuck the outcomes because if things don’t work out the way you expect them to… you won’t be the only one to suffer. It’s not just your heart you put on the line, it’s your kid’s too. And that’s not something you do easily.”

“So you think he lied to protect his daughter?”

“I think you should listen to him.”

Harry just groans at the suggestion. He can’t digest any more lies from Louis. But he’ll hear him out at some point, probably. He can’t just speculate and wonder why Louis did what he did forever, not if he wants to move on with his life. He needs to know the whole story. He needs to know if he was completely wrong about him or if he just missed some parts.

“Do you remember what you told me when I was thinking about leaving Matt?” Sarah asks after a moment of thoughtful silence and Harry has to think about it. He said a lot of things when she informed him that she wanted to leave Ronnie’s father for good. She only hesitated because she didn’t want Ronnie to grow-up without a father, which was like the worst reason to stay with the guy as he wouldn’t have been much of a father to the little girl anyway.

“He’s a total dickhead and he doesn’t deserve you or this kid. Actually, he doesn’t deserve anything good, except maybe a good kick in the nuts.” He quotes his old-self and Sarah snorts at his choice of words, just like she did all these years ago.

“If your head says one thing and your heart says another, decide whether you have a better head or a better heart. Then you’ll know which you should listen to and what the right thing to do is.”

Harry laughs. It’s weak, almost too quiet to be heard but it’s here anyway. He’s making progress already. And yes, he remembers now. He’d read something along the same lines earlier that day and it’d fit the situation enough that he’d paraphrased it. He was barely seventeen. He took pride in whatever he could.  

“I believe both my head and my heart are too fucked up.”

“And I believe you have the best heart to ever beat on this planet.”

Harry smiles at her but looks down at his hands. He’s always trusted his heart over his head. He’s always made his decisions with passion rather than reflexion. And that’s why got him here today. That’s why he feels like someone’s been stamping on his chest for hours. He ignored his head when it told him that Louis was straight, Louis has always been straight and this was probably just a phase. He didn’t want to believe that he would never be more than the other one. So he trusted his heart instead. He trusted it when it told him Louis wanted this too, that he was just discovering his sexuality late and that it shouldn’t matter too much. He convinced himself that he stood a chance against Louis’ fear of being judged by his peers. But he never did. And he should have known. So he’s not so sure about his heart being better than his head. But Sarah’s right. He should at least listen to Louis. He should let him explain. It might not change anything for his broken heart but it will help put his mind at peace.

 

Harry has never been good with loneliness. He's never been good at being on his own, even less so when he's not feeling too great. So he spends the day with Sarah and Ronnie. They watch a couple of Disney movies with bowls of ice cream on their laps. They sing and dance and act like total idiots. They take tea with Ronnie's toys and he lets her do his hair for the occasion. It's nothing special, nothing he hasn't done a million time before, but it's just what he needs. He wonders about Louis' daughter. He wonders what she's like, wonders if she asks Louis to have tea with her dolls sometimes and if he says yes. He thinks he'd have liked to know her, to discover all she has in common with her father. He leaves before Ronnie's bath time. He watches the sun disappear from the sky while he walks and thinks it'd make a beautiful metaphor for Louis. He could write songs about it, about how Louis makes everything so much brighter and warmer and how he always ends up leaving to better someone else's life.

The café's almost completely empty when he arrives. Michael and Jade have started cleaning up while Emily puts the remaining pastries in boxes to bring to homeless people. He feels and probably looks like shit and he's too tired for mindless conversation. So he just waves it them and turns to the staircase, only to remain frozen on the spot because Louis is sitting there. And he looks so fragile and tiny, all curled up on himself on the small steps. He has to fight the urge to go and wrap his arms around him.

"He's been sitting here for hours." Emily informs him discreetly.” I tried to make him move to a table but he seemed to believe you'd just sneak past him if he didn't guard the door."

"I probably would have." He admits with a sad smile. He might tell her everything later, maybe she'll have a few wise words to share with him. But now is not the time to have a heart to heart with Emily. Louis is sitting on his staircase, blocking the way to his apartment because he wants to talk to him. So he'll hear him out. He kisses Emily's cheek and walks up the few steps that separate him from Louis. The older man looks up as soon as Harry's boots enter his sight, his eyes are red and puffy. And Harry can't help but feel a little happy at the fact that he cried too. He wouldn't have cried if he didn't care. Louis opens his mouth to speak but Harry stops him before he can get a sound out. He doesn't want to have this conversation on the staircase.

"Let's get inside." He says and holds a hand out to help him get up. Louis' hand is shaking as he slips it in Harry's but he holds on tight. They fit perfectly together, like pieces of a same puzzle. And the thought hurts Harry but only a little so he thinks maybe he will get over him eventually. They scramble up the stairs together, hands firmly clasped together until Harry has to let go to open the door. He doesn't know where it goes from there, doesn't know if Louis is going to go straight to the point or stall or maybe deflect again. All he knows is that he wants to get it all done and over with fast.

"I broke up with Haley." Louis says as soon as the door closed behind them. "I told her that I met someone who opened my eyes on so many things that I couldn’t just keep pretending and it helped me realize I could never make her as happy as she deserves."

"You did the right thing, Louis." Harry says before he can think about it. He’s not supposed to be reassuring him. He’s not supposed to feel like pulling him into a bear hug and never letting him go. He’s not supposed to feel anything remotely good towards him right now. But he does. He can’t help it. It’s going to take more than a few hours to not like so much him anymore.

"I know. And I know that I should have done it sooner too. I just... I was scared. Emma, my daughter, she's the best thing that ever happened to me. She's the reason why I get up every morning and I only ever want to do what's best for her. And I thought..." He trails off to take in a shaky breath. "She's going to be made fun of, you know? She's going to be that kid whose father's gay. And I know it’s not as frowned upon anymore but it’s still not fully accepted so I thought Haley could use it against me. She could use my sexuality against me to forbid me from seeing my daughter. So I tried to ignore my feelings for you, I tried to not fall for you. But it didn’t work, obviously. Everything changed when we kissed. I just… I wanted to be with you. I didn’t stop caring about what it would do to Ems but I couldn’t lie about who I was anymore, not if I wanted to be with you and I really wanted to be with you. I still do. I want to be with you.”

“Sarah had to file a case to keep Ronnie’s father out of their life. It took like over a year, I think. Child services investigated both him and her, like they interrogated their families and friends. It was awful but she got full custody in the end.” He rambles until he sees the look of utter worry on Louis’ face. “What I mean to say is that it’s not that easy to take someone’s parental rights away. She would have to prove that you’re not a good father first. I don’t know how you’re doing at this father thing but I’m quite sure you’re not that rubbish at it.”

"I have no good reason for not telling you about Emma." He admits softly. "I didn't think it was necessary at first, like you were just a friend I hung out with sometimes and you didn't need to know everything about me. But you became so much more important than a simple mate and so fast too. I was scared and confused and... I don't know, it was like I had so many things to figure out and deal with that I didn't make telling you a priority. But I should have. I should have told you the day I came back from Doncaster, probably even before that. You should have known what you were getting yourself into when you kissed me on that sidewalk. I'm sorry you didn't. I'm sorry I was always such a coward and I'm sorry I fucked it all up.”

Harry looks at him, notices the tears rolling down his cheeks silently and the way his hands shake around the hem of his shirt. He looks so broken. Harry wants nothing more than to tell him that it's okay, that they can try again and that they can make it work this time. They just have to be honest with each other.

"I need you, Harry. I need you like I never needed anyone before." Louis whispers from somewhere next to him and he sounds so vulnerable Harry feels tears pooling behind his eyelids.

"I feel like I don't know you, Louis. I feel like all the things you ever said to me were just lies and all the things we did together never meant anything."

"But you do know me, Haz. You know me better than anyone. I might have kept an important part of my life from you but I showed you parts of me that I never showed anybody before. And I don't mean my dick. Stan has seen the merchandise a few times." He jokes, making Harry laugh in spite of himself. "I never lied about my feelings for you and I always meant every word I used to describe them. You have to believe me on that."

Harry closes his eyes again, takes in a few deep breaths to try and order his thoughts. He believes him, he thinks. He believes that this relationship means something to him. He wouldn't be here otherwise. He wouldn't be seeking a second chance. He meets Louis' eyes on the other side of the couch and he sees the sincerity in them, the hope. He can hear Sarah's words ringing clear in his head, telling him to follow his heart because it will always be more trustworthy than his pretty but empty head. And his heart is telling him that he's already in too deep. He's already committed to this relationship and he's not going to move on from it easily. It's possible that he never will, not completely. And what is love if not forgiving? So he swallows around the lump in his throat and nods slowly.

"Is there anything else I should know about, like you're actually a spy or you used to have a tail?"

Louis laughs, clear and warm and real and crinkling his eyes. And Harry thinks he made the right choice because he just can't imagine never hearing this again; never seeing this again. So maybe it's going to take time to fix what's been broken. He's going to have to learn to trust Louis again and he might have to get to know him again too. But it will be okay. They will be okay.

"No more secret, I promise.” Louis assures, holding his fingers up in what Harry assumes is supposed to look like a Scout’s honour sign. And he’s closing the little space left between them, his hands coming to rest on the side of Harry’s neck and his fingertips stroking his nape softly. “I’m going to kiss you now.” He informs him, eyes unashamedly locked on his lips. “You have five seconds to stop me.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you think of this chapter? Would you like more Harry's POV?
> 
> I'm leaving for the UK in a couple of days to celebrate my birthday and I won't be back until the 10th of October so there won't be any updates till there. I'll go back to updating every week after that as life will not be as hectic. 
> 
> Have a nice couple of weeks, everyone!!!


	13. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can hear you all sigh a loud "FUCKING FINALLY" as you open the page to see that it is indeed a new chapter that I'm posting today. I'll admit, I screamed it too. 
> 
> I'd like to apology for the very long break I took (even if most of it was due to reasons out of my control, mind.) and promise that it won't happen again. 
> 
> Thanks for not giving up on the story or me, you're all ace. 
> 
> Now, onto the chapter.

Louis glares at the calendar stuck on Harry’s fridge with a magnet of Big Ben, at the twelve red crosses he’s drawn at the end of each day spent without Emma. He still got to see her a few times over the last two weeks, of course. Haley’s far too aware that keeping him from visiting his daughter will not play in her favour if they end up going to court. But it’s only a couple of hours here and there, always with Haley chaperoning them. She won’t even allow Harry to come with him, which he sort of understands but still, it’s not what he wants. It’s not even close to what he wants. He wants to take his daughter to his new apartment downtown, wants to show her the bedroom Zayn, Harry and he have spent hours decorating for her. And he wants to introduce her to Harry. He wants them to be acquainted with each other, wants the three of them to spend time together. He understands that Haley’s pissed at him, knows that she has every right to be mad at him. He did the one thing he promised to never do; he hurt her. He hurt her the same way his father hurt his mum. And he hates himself for it. But he doesn’t think it’s enough of a reason to keep him out of his kid’s life. It shouldn’t be. He made mistakes, lots of them. He handled the situations with Harry and Haley all wrong. He’s the first to admit that he messed up. So he understands that Haley wants to hurt him but she’s hurting Emma too. She doesn’t realize what she’s doing, he knows. She can’t see the confusion and pain in their daughter blue eyes, too blinded by her own heartache. He has to fix his mess, for Emma’s sake if no one else’s. Which is why he suggested they go see a counsellor. As Harry said, it really can’t hurt to have a neutral third party helping them come to an agreement regarding Emma’s custody. And yes, alright, the mediation really is Harry’s idea but Louis isn’t going to tell Haley that. He fears she’d refuse the option if she knew.

He tears his eyes off the calendar when he hears the front door creak open and puts the kettle on. Harry has taken on the habit of joining him upstairs for breakfast, says he wants a proper break from the chaos that is the café in the morning when he really is indulging Louis’ desire to avoid unnecessary contact with people that are not his boyfriend, best friend or family. Which reminds him that he has to call his mum at some point this weekend. It’s been days since he last talked to her; she must be out of nails to bite by now.

Harry crowds him against the kitchen’s counter, wraps his arms around his waist and nuzzles his face in the crook of his neck. He leans into the embrace and tilts his head to give Harry better access, feeling his lips curve against his skin. His life is one big ugly mess at the moment but he’s strangely fine with it right now, just as long as he gets to be with Harry. He’d feel a lot better if he could spend more quality time with his daughter, of course, but he knows it’s just a matter of time. Haley will realize that her half-justified grudge is no good reason to keep him out of Emma’s life eventually, he’s sure of it. He does worry about how long it’s going to take her to get there but he’s hopeful it won’t take too long once they’ll start seeing the mediator.

He’s startled out of his thoughts by the kettle whistling, steam blowing in his face. He pushes Harry’s off of him to pour hot water in the teapot his boyfriend insists on keeping in spite of all the dangerous-looking cracks in the ceramic because it was his very first housewarming gift. Louis expects kihim to throw the thing a proper funeral when it breaks, with an obituary and everything. He brings the pot over to the table and sees half a dozen of Oreo cupcakes already displayed there. Emily refuses to sell anything made of Oreos at the café, rants about how unnatural the biscuits are and how suspicious it is that no one knows what it’s made of exactly. So he knows Harry baked them for him specifically. And if there’s one thing he knows about relationships it is that such treats always comes with unpleasant stuff. He looks at Harry, still standing in the kitchen and looking tensed. He never stops to think about how the whole thing with Haley affects Harry almost as much as it affects him, how it’s harming him too. He’s never wanted to hurt anyone, let alone the people he cares the most about. But it seems it’s all he can do lately. He gives one longing look at the cupcakes and goes back to the kitchen, resting his hands on Harry’s hips and biting the back of his neck lightly. He can almost feel the knots there, the tension in the taut muscles. He wants to ask what’s wrong but thinks he might not be ready to hear the answer yet. So he just rests his forehead in the space between his shoulders and waits. They stay like that for minutes before Harry shuffles to turn into Louis’ embrace, their eyes meeting for the first time that morning.      

“What is it?” Louis asks quietly, a frown etched on his face as he takes in the pain and fear blending in his boyfriend’s eyes. He needs to know what’s wrong to help make it better. It doesn’t matter if he’s not ready to hear it. Harry just stares at him, hands coming up to frame his face and thumbs rubbing circles against his jaw. It’s all it takes for Louis’ heart to miss a few beats, worry surging through his every nerve. “Talk to me, baby.”

“I’m not as strong as you think I am.” Harry whispers after a couple of minutes, letting go of his face to bury his hands in the pockets of his jeans. It does nothing to reassure Louis. “I know it looks like I’m not affected by the glares people throw at us or by the words whispered behind our backs but… it’s just that I built these walls around me to keep these things from getting to me. And it works too, most of the time.” He trails off, closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath. “But it doesn’t work quite as well when it comes from people I know, people I cared about and thought cared about me.”  

Louis doesn’t know much about Harry’s life before he moved away from Holmes Chapel. He doesn’t know how it was before he came out, how many friends he had there or what he liked to do with them. He doesn’t know who gave him hell for being who he is. And it’s not that he doesn’t want to know either because he does. He wants to know everything about Harry. He just doesn’t want to push him, not when he looks so broken every time he as much as thinks about his past. Maybe he should have. Maybe he’d know what this is all about then. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t think Harry expects him to say anything. So he just takes his hands and squeezes them, giving him a small smile to encourage him to continue.

“I don’t want to see them, Lou.” He chokes on a sob. “But it’s my mum’s wedding and I can’t miss my mum’s wedding.” He stops, eyes lifting to meet Louis’. “So I thought… For all I don’t want to subject you to these people’s venom, I need you there with me.”

Louis breathes out shakily, relief taking over every other emotion he felt in the last five minutes. Harry isn’t breaking up with him. He’s not saying it’s too hard to be with him right now, not asking for a way out. So he doesn’t care that he’s never even met Harry’s mum before or that it’s probably too soon for him to meet Harry’s family. He takes Harry’s face in both hands and kisses him softly, resting his lips there for a bit longer.

“I’ll go anywhere with you, baby.”

 

Louis thinks he might be on the verge of a panic attack but he's never had one before so he has no way to know for sure. All he knows is that his heart is beating way too fast and it's getting really hard to breathe. Also, he believes the walls are closing in on him. The room looks smaller than when he first stepped in it, if that's at all possible. He needs to get out of the cubicle, out of the shop. He'd say he needs to get out of town too but he doesn't think that would help matter much, considering he's losing his shit because he's going out of town for the weekend. He's happy to be Harry's date to the wedding. It's an important step forward in their relationship, not just because he's going to meet Harry's family but also because he'll be introduced as Harry's boyfriend. It's like their first official outing. He's thrilled about that, really. But he'd have appreciated it more if he'd had time to prepare. He doesn't even have an appropriate outfit for a wedding. He's sure he could find a shirt in his pile of clean clothes but he doesn't really have dress pants, only jeans and joggers. He might have a suit somewhere, most probably at the house. He's not too fond of the idea to go and pick it up when he's not sure he should tell Haley where he's going. He doesn't want to tell her he's going to meet Harry's parents, doesn't want to rub in her face just how serious Harry and he are already. So he could either wear a white shirt with black jeans and look out of place among the posh or borrow Harry's clothes and look like a cheap clown. Or, and that's the solution he decided on but is proving more difficult than he anticipated, he could go on an express shopping trip and find a suitable outfit. He thought it'd be easy, thought he'd just have to grab a pair of black pants that looks classy enough and go home. He was mistaken, clearly. There are so many different cuts and colours and names. He just felt overwhelmed. So he called Zayn in hysterics and begged for his help. And because Zayn truly is an amazing friend, he faked a nasty stomach bug to get out of his summer job early. Louis owes him a lifetime of servitude, probably. And that's how he found himself in this tiny cubicle with more clothes than he can fit in his single drawer back at Harry's. Lucky for him, he has his own apartment to hoard everything he owns. It isn't much more than an expensive storage room for now but he'll spend more time there once he'll have Emma, if only because there's no room for her at Harry's. 

He runs a nervous hand down the front of the borrowed jacket and steps out of the changing room. He eyes the glass doors longingly, wishing he could make a beeline for it and not be arrested for attempted theft. Zayn's not paying attention to him. He's sitting on a sort of bean bag in the middle of the space, frowning at his phone. Louis clears his throat to signal his presence, attempts a smile when his best friend looks up. He regrets the absence of pockets in the outfit. It'd be nice to bury his hands there, hide the fact that they're shaking. He's quite certain he's going to be a nervous wreck tomorrow too so he could do with pockets, really. He might voice the thought once Zayn's done inspecting the suit on him. Unless he says it's perfect, in which case he'll deal with the lack of pockets. He'll find another way to keep his hands steady, hold Harry's maybe. He's allowed to do that now. They're officially together now, so officially that he's going to meet Harry's family. The panic is reaching a dangerous level. He's going to throw up all over the grey carpet. He wonders how many guys puked in there before him. None, probably. He hopes his stomach's got enough time to digest the three cupcakes he ate earlier. It'd be a waste of excellent food. 

"You look like you could do with a drink." Zayn mutters once he's done with the close inspection of the suit on Louis. Or maybe it's Louis himself that he was inspecting so closely. It'd explain the sudden statement, surely. Either way, he seems to have come to a conclusion if the way he's clasping his hands together is any indication. Which it is, Louis knows. "I’d go with the third one. It’s the best fitted to your shape and looks just posh enough that you can wear it to less formal events without looking like a sore thumb.”

“Do you know how close Harry is to his mother?” Louis asks, watches confusion colour Zayn’s features. He doesn’t know. He can’t know. He hasn’t spent enough time with Harry to know more than the basics stuff. He hopes it will change now that they can go out together freely. “She’s like his real-life hero, Zayn. He thinks the world of her, values her opinion as the most valuable in his life. If she doesn’t approve me, of our relationship…”

“It won’t change the way he feels about you.” Zayn cuts him off with a sigh. “Look, you’ve given the guy more than enough reasons to walk away from whatever it is you two have and you know that most people would have run away from your mess at the first issue. But Harry’s still here. He’s still standing by your side.”

“Yeah, he’s my special snowflake.” Louis smiles to himself, feels his cheeks burn under Zayn's soft look and buries his face into his shoulder to hide it. It’s not that he’s ashamed of how happy Harry makes him, just that he’s not used to being so open about it yet.

“What I’m trying to say here is that I might not know Harry very well but I don’t believe for one second that he could break up with you just because his mummy doesn’t warm up to you straight away.”

Zayn’s right, of course. Louis knows that he has no reason to worry, not when it comes to Harry’s commitment to him, to their relationship. Harry, for reasons that escape Louis at the moment, thinks they’re worth fighting for and is willing to stand by his side no matter what. He didn’t just ask him to be his date at his mum’s wedding; he asked him to stand with him during a difficult time. He asked him to go with him because he needs him to be there. So he can’t let his fears and anxiety get in the way. It’s time for him to show Harry that he too thinks they’re worth fighting for, that he too wants to be here for him.

“I don’t know which suit is the third one.” Louis mutters, frowning at the suits hanging in the cubicle. They still all look the same to him, just different shades of black maybe. But he realizes now that it doesn’t matter what he’ll be wearing tomorrow, doesn’t matter if he impresses Harry’s mother or not. It’s not what he will be there for. He’ll be there to support Harry, to love him in the face of all the idiots who can’t see just how amazing he is. He can do this. He can be what Harry needs. He just needs to quiet his restless brain for a couple of days.   

 

There’s an accident on the M6, just about two miles from Holmes Chapel. A lorry tipped over near the A54’s junction, effectively stopping the traffic in direction of the South while they take it off the road. At least there’s no car under the trailer, makes the whole thing almost funny rather than horribly tragic. It doesn’t make it any less annoying, though. But Louis finds comfort in the fact that they heard the news before passing the Knutsford Services’ junction because it feels much nicer to sit in an air-conditioned restaurant rather than in an unmoving car. And all the noises surrounding them come as a relief too, somehow. He’s gotten used to Harry’s silence over the last few days, learned to read it almost as well as his words. He doesn’t mind the quiet times much, even enjoys them sometimes. But this is a different kind of silence. It’s not Harry being quiet because he doesn’t feel the need to talk. It’s not comfortable or easy enough to be that. No, it’s Harry being quiet because he’s too lost in his own head. He talked about them in the car, the nasty family members he wishes he'd never have to see ever again. He talked about the uncle who introduced him to harsh methods supposed to fix him, about the cousins who helped beat him up every other day and called him names when they couldn't get their hands on him. He finished the story by admitting he never told his mum, let her believe all of the bruises came from his fellow school mates. He caused her enough pain, is how he justifies lying to her. Louis listened to him. He squeezed his thigh every time his voice broke, smiled every time he turned his watery eyes in his direction and kissed his cheek every time a lonely tear rolled down it. Harry has been quiet since and Louis doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know how to get Harry out of his head right now and he doesn't know how to support him throughout the weekend. He doesn't know how to do anything anymore. Harry shouldn't have asked him to be his date. He should have taken Niall or Liam. They would have known how to cheer him up, how to comfort him. All Louis has to offer him is a cup of tea and sex in the toilets. Except he's not brave enough to actually propose to get him off. He's a bit too concerned about hygiene and stuff. Also, he's lacking the skills to make it a pleasant experience for Harry. He's still learning to mind his teeth. So all he has left is the cup of tea. Sadly, the variety of tea bags at the station doesn't include any relatively good brand. Harry likes his tea strong, no sugar. He's going to hate this flavoured water shit. Louis really is bad at the whole relationship business, can't even find a way to make him feel better. 

"Let's bring our own tea next time we're stranded on the highway." Louis sighs as he puts the plastic cups on the table. He drags his seat closer to Harry's and clasps their hands together over the armrests, squeezing as strong as he can without causing them pain. Harry doesn't look at him but there's a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, albeit weak and sad. Louis kisses the corner of his mouth, concentrates on the way his smile grows a little bigger at the contact. 

"Take me home, please." Harry murmurs against his lips, voice so low that Louis thinks he might not have meant for him to hear it. But he does hear it and he can't ignore it. He can't let Harry run away from his bullies again. He will not feel better. If anything, he'll feel worse because he'll have missed his mother's special day. So he pulls away, just enough to watch him in the eyes.

"That's exactly what I'm doing, love." 

Harry groans quietly and drops his head on Louis' shoulder. Louis pulls him closer, draws random patterns on his back and kisses the top of his head. He still doesn't know how he could possibly make things better for Harry but he's starting to realize that it's not what he's here for. He's starting to realize why Harry asked him to tag along, instead of Liam or Niall. He doesn't need someone to cheer him up or comfort him. He needs someone to hold him close and stop him from running. Louis can do that. He's quite good at it, too. 

 

"Is there anything I need to know about your mum?" Louis asks just as they drive past the sign welcoming them to Holmes Chapel. It took about an hour to get the lorry removed and traffic to start again. Harry convinced Louis to wait another forty minutes before taking off again, argued that they'd be stuck behind a million cars if they left straight away. So they're just short of two hours late on their original schedule and meeting up with Harry's family at the house instead of the reception hall.

"Don't know. Like what?"

"Like she has seven fingers on one hand or a third eye on her forehead." Louis shrugs, smiles when Harry barks out a genuine laugh. It's the first real laugh he's gotten out of his boyfriend since they left Manchester. He hopes it won't be the last. "Your two extra nipples have to come from somewhere, don't they?" He adds, patting Harry's chest in the general area of where said nipples should be. Harry catches his hand and brings it to his mouth, licks the back of it and laughs again when Louis pulls out with a shriek.

"She might take time to warm up to you." Harry says eventually. Louis doesn't blame her. He knows Harry told his mum about Emma, reckons he told her about Haley and his lies too. He'd probably be apprehensive too if he were her. Which doesn’t mean that he’s fine with it. He’s not. He wants Harry’s mum to be okay with him. He doesn’t want to add her disapproval to the list of obstacles they’ll have to face to be happy together. "But it's not because of you, who you are or what your story is." Harry rushes to add when he sees Louis' panicked face, reaches over the gearbox to squeeze his thigh. "It's just that she's very protective of me, you know? She doesn't want to see me hurt again, especially since I tend to run away from everything and everyone when I'm hurt."

“I will never intentionally hurt you, Harry.” Louis promises and links their hands together over his thigh, vaguely aware his boyfriend will need it back to drive properly soon enough. “I will be so good with your mum that she’ll love me more than she loves you by the end of our visit.”

Harry laughs again, still the sweetest sound to Louis’ ears, and squeezes his hand before letting go to shift gear.

“She’s never met any of my boyfriends before.” Harry confesses, eyes darting off the road quickly to see his boyfriend’s reaction. Louis just stares at the road ahead with a light frown. It has never occurred to him that he might be the first of Harry’s boyfriends to meet his family, if only because he knows Nick was introduced to Harry by his mother. But then again Nick was never really Harry’s boyfriend from what he gathered, just a guy he had sex with on a regular basis and possibly went on a couple of dates with for good measure.

“You’ve never brought anyone home.”

“I haven’t even brought myself home in four years so…” Harry laughs without humour and Louis pinches his knee lightly, a silent apology for his poor choice of words. “I just never had a good enough reason to go through the trouble before, you know? Like, my relationships were all fun and games, easy and light. They were never serious or important, never meant to turn into a long-term thing. So it didn’t, like, make sense to take that big of a step.”   

Louis knows the words Harry’s not saying. He hears them in the shaky breaths he takes and the quick glances he throws his way. It’s different this time, is what he’s trying to get across. What they have is different. It’s harder than it ought to be, complicated beyond reasonable. But it’s all worth it. Louis smiles at the landscape, feels warm all over and his heart expands with everything he feels for Harry. 

Fields eventually give way to streets and buildings, houses and shops. Louis feels his anxiety rising with each house they’re passing. It’s even more terrifying now that he knows Harry’s about as clueless as he is. And it’s a relief too, somehow. It feels like they’re on equal grounds for once, like they both are in the dark and taking steps blindly and they have to trust each other if they want to reach the light.  
  
“You’re ready?”

Harry’s voice breaks through his thoughts and he notices they’ve stopped, car parked in the driveway of the biggest house Louis has ever seen. Alright, that may be an exaggeration but the house’s still impressive. He’s seen photographs of Harry’s parents, knows they’re simple yet elegant, but he doesn't know just how posh they are, if at all. But there's no use in wondering about things he's about to find out anyway. So he leans over the gearbox and kisses Harry, just a quick brush of dry lips to give him strength and courage. He can do it. He can be Harry's anchor. Or he can just pretend, for Harry's sake. It should work too. He rests his forehead against Harry's, eyes closed as he breathes deeply a couple of time. It will be okay.

He nods slowly, only knows Harry felt it when he pecks his lips and steps out of the car. So he closes his eyes again and takes in a much needed breath before clicking the seatbelt open. It doesn't work. Of course it doesn't work. He hasn't had a problem with it when they stopped earlier but of course he has a problem now. He curses through his gritted teeth, hitting the buckle with all the strength he can muster and hurts his hand in the process. Yeah, that was not his brightest idea. And because he's such a lucky man, he can see the door swinging open from the corner of his eyes, recognizes Harry's mum. She looks everything like she does on the pictures in Harry's flat. And that's not the first impression he was going for. He's considering banging his head against the gloves box when Harry comes to his rescue. So now he's stuck in the car with Harry half lying on his laps and a mouth full of hair. He shouldn't get turned on by any of that. But he is. He so is. And yeah, definitely not the first impression he was going for. It's a conspiracy, must be. Or a nightmare. God, he hopes it's a nightmare and he's about to wake up.

He closes his eyes, counts to ten and opens them again. He's still in Harry's car, which is still parked on Harry's parents' driveway. The only difference resides in the absence of seatbelt across his chest and of a pretty boy on his laps. That's his reality then. He catches movements ahead, sees Harry engulf his mother in a crushing hug and he's sporting the biggest grin Louis has ever seen on his face. It's a wonderful sight. It's a wonderful reality. 

Harry's the first to let go and turns to the car, waves at Louis to join them with that huge grin still on his face. He can't put it off any longer, not without being rude. He breathes in deeply to try and stop his hands from shaking like those of an old man with Parkinson's syndrome. It doesn't quite work. So he shoves them in his pockets as soon as he's out of the car and hurries toward his boyfriend. He just really wants to get the awkward introduction done and over with right now. 

"Look mum, I brought my boyfriend to meet you!" Harry exclaims happily, pulling Louis closer by his sleeve and drapping an arm around his shoulders. Louis leans into him, finds it calms his nerves better than any of his breathing techniques. 

"I can see that, yes." Harry's mother smiles. She has Harry's smile, Louis notes, with the dimple and glitters in her eyes. And it's not surprising per se, she is his mother after all, but it's still nice to find familiarity in a stranger's face. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Louis."

"Pleasure's all mine..." He replies, trails off when he realizes he doesn't know what last name she's going by. "I'm actually not sure how I should call you." He admits with a grimace. He feels like an idiot. He's been here for ten minutes top and he's already made a fool of himself twice. She probably wonders what her son sees in him. Well, that makes two of them then. 

"Anne will do." She laughs softly. Louis didn't expect to be given permission to use her first name quite so fast. It took him years to get on first name basis with Haley's parents. They're still wincing when he calls them by their first names, sometimes. "Come on, Robin's making tea." 

Harry tugs Louis' hand out of his pocket to slip it in his instead, fingers slotting together perfectly. Louis gives Harry's hand a lingering squeeze, a reassurance that everything's alright. There's a grin that threatens to split his boyfriend's face in two then and he can't help but grin too. He catches Anne looking at them with a small smile on her lips and fondness in her eyes. It's possible that he worked himself up over nothing and Harry's mum won't convinced her son that he'd be better off without him. Not yet, at least. 

 

Robin's tea is undoubtedly the best tea Louis has ever had; and he has tried a fair lot of different blends over the years. It's a perfect combination of spicy and sweet while still strong enough to not be rendered bland by a splash of milk. Louis helps himself to a second cup, is about to ask for a third when Harry takes his mug away. Right, he's probably got more tea than is healthy anyway. And they both need to sleep tonight, wouldn't want to look like a corpse at the wedding. Harry kisses him before he goes to help his mum in the kitchen. He catches Anne's eyes again, sees the same fondness as before in them. He can't say if he's won her over yet but he definitely is on the right path. He spends the best part of an hour talking football with Robin and his son, all three of them equally passionate about the game and Manchester United. He thinks he might have won brownie points when he tells them he almost made it professional but busted his knee pretty badly. He can hear Harry laugh with his mum in the kitchen, smiles every time the sound reaches his ears. There's a knowing look on Robin's face. And a similar smile on his lips when it's Anne they hear laughing. Gemma arrives right before dinner and starts glaring at him the minute she sees him. He met her before, partied with her a couple of times, but she thought he was just another of Harry's friends then. She didn't look too scary then. She does now, especially when she hugs him a little too tightly and describes all the horrible things she'll do to him if he ever hurts her baby brother. He tries to laugh it off. She gives him a stern look. He swallows around a lump in his throat. Harry laughs and pulls him closer, promising she's mostly harmless. It's the "mostly" that worries him. 

Dinner goes without a hitch, which is sort of a miracle considering Harry spends most of it with a hand high on Louis' thigh. It's all sort of distracting, really. Luckily, most conversations revolves around the wedding and don't require his participation. He doesn't have much to say on the subject, mostly because he knows close to nothing about weddings. He can't even remember the last time he's been to one, thinks it might have been his mum's when he was four. Harry pushes his hand impossibly higher, right over Louis' hard-on, and starts drumming some sort of beat with his fingers. Louis is just about to lose it and he wonders if Harry realizes what he's doing to him. There's a smirk on his lips and a glint in his eyes. He's a tease, is what he is. Louis is torn between dragging him upstairs to finish what he started and smacking his hand away. He should choose the latter, probably, if only because a quick retreat would not look inconspicuous at all. He doesn't share Harry's obvious kink for exhibitionism, especially not when it's family sitting next to them. So he slips his hand under Harry's, biting on a hiss when his fingers graze over his erection, and redirects it down his legs, stopping at his knee. It should be a safe enough place. He laces their fingers together to keep Harry from moving back up, just in case he decided to be a little shit. He's so painfully hard right now, so uncomfortable. He hates everything, more particularly Harry. The bastard is still smirking too. He hates him, very much so. He lets his mind wander to horrible things like kicked puppies and mass murderers and his Nan wearing sexy underwear. The latter is enough to kill the remnants of his excitement and he's all cooled down by the time dessert is served. 

Anne disappears in the kitchen once they're all done with their food to make tea and Gemma takes advantage of her absence to tease Harry, joking on how he will most likely trip over his own feet when he will walk their mother down the aisle. Louis chirps in to agree with her, compares Harry to a horse trying to get on its wobbly legs for the first time. Harry doesn't laugh along like he usually does, just looks down at his napkin and remains uncharacteristically quiet. That's how Louis knows he's nervous, worried to fuck things up on his mother's big day. It has little to do with his clear lack of coordination and a lot to do with the guests. There isn't much Louis can do to help him, to make things a little bit better. He grabs his face with both hands and kisses him softly. He's vaguely aware of Gemma and Mike pretending to puke at their antics in the background but finds he doesn't really care when he can feel Harry's growing smile against his lips. 

Robin leaves with Mike, intent on respecting the tradition and not see his fiancee until she's walking down the aisle. Louis is impressed by the couple's will, isn't sure he'll get any sleep without Harry's warmth next to him now that he knows how it feels. Part of him dreads the moment they'll have to be apart, each in their own flat. He hopes Harry will be willing to take the five minutes walk to and from the bakery whenever he'll have Emma. He's not going to ask him, though, knows he'd stay over if he did but fears he'd feel like he has to rather than wants to. But now isn't the time to think about it. 

"Why don't you kids go and install the board? I'll join you in a minute." Anne suggests with a soft smile. Louis remembers Harry telling him about their traditional game of Scrabble, stories about flying boards and hidden letters. They're all very competitive in the family, it seems. He's not too big on board games, just doesn't get the enthusiasm. There's an impressive pile of dishes in the sink and he's still on a mission to impress Anne. Harry's staring at him, one eyebrow raised in question. So he holds his hands out, draws an exaggerated pout on his face and lets Harry pull him up. He crashes on his chest and feels his arms around his waist, hands on the small of his back. He leans into the embrace, wraps his arms around Harry's waist. He's vaguely aware of Gemma gagging in the background. It doesn't wipe the smile off his face. 

"Think I'll help your mum with the mess if it's okay." He says, voice low enough so that only Harry can hear him. He's not really sure how welcome he is in the kitchen, doesn't want to overstep some boundaries. Harry's grinning at him, though, so he guesses it's okay. 

"Be careful, my love. She might want to keep you around." Harry jokes with glitters in his eyes. Louis leans on his tiptoes and kisses him lightly, just a lingering touch of their lips. He wants the moment to last forever, wants to stay in Harry's arms till the end of times. 

"I'm going to puke on everything you love including your boyfriend if you don't hurry up." Gemma threatens, sounds like she means it. Harry must notice too because he steps out of their embrace, smacks a kiss on Louis' forehead and saunters off to the living room. 

Louis takes a minute to watch him, lips curving into a fond smile. It's here again, that warm feeling spreading through him and expanding his heart. He knows what it is now. And maybe it's a bit too much too soon but he's not afraid of it, not anymore. It feels too right. 

He shakes himself out of his observation, gathers the cups left on the table and brings them to the kitchen. He puts them next to the pile of dishes and grabs a towel to dry the plates Anne has already rinsed. She doesn't say anything, doesn't react other than handing him the next plate. They work in silence, only breaking it to laugh at Harry and Gemma arguing about a word or another. It feels nice, comfortable. 

"Harry said it was you who suggested coming today." Anne says when they're halfway through the pile of dishes. "So thank you for bringing my son home. It's nice to have him here again."

There a sad smile on her lips, no light in her eyes. Louis hates it, hates that she seems to think Harry only came home early because he made him. The truth is he didn't even have to insist, just mentioned it'd be nicer to meet his parents before the ceremony. For all he's avoided coming back to Holmes Chapel, for all that he was scared to set a foot in town again, he missed being home. 

He's about to tell her just that but he's interrupted by Gemma shouting obscenities that he guesses are directed at Harry. He's torn between staying to help with the last of the dishes and going to see what's the commotion's about. He'd like to act as Harry's prince, sweeping in and saving him from the dragon. But he doesn't want to abandon Anne.

"It's okay, I can handle it from here." Anne assures, taking the towel out of his hands with an amused smile. Louis thinks about kissing her cheek but reckons they haven't known each other long enough. It'd be awkward, if nothing else. So he just grins and goes for the door. 

"Louis?" Anne calls before he goes all the way out of the kitchen. He turns around, a little worried at what she might want to say now. "I'd love to meet your daughter next time."

He'd love that too, wants Emma to meet Harry's family. He hopes he and Emma will get to be part of Harry's family someday, hopes Emma will grow to consider them as her family too. 

"I'll be sure to bring her here." 

He's careful to put emphasis on the last word, a quiet promise that Harry will visit her again and quite often if he has a say in it. It won't be too hard a promise to keep, he's certain of it. 

 

There's no photographs on the walls, is the first thing Louis notices when he steps into Harry's old bedroom. The walls are covered with posters of old bands and movies instead. There's an empty space above the desk, though, and Louis guesses that's where Harry used to display his pictures. He can see bits of paper still stuck to the wall with a pin, like the other part was ripped off violently. He imagines a fifteen years old Harry coming home after a rough day at school and stripping the room off all the memories of times with people who turned out to be complete arseholes. He wishes, not for the first time, that he'd known Harry back then so he could have punched them all in the nose. He'd have done his best to protect him from the bullies. Or maybe he would have been one of them, maybe he would have been the meanest of all to cover the attraction he felt towards the curly head boy. He hates the kid he could have been.

It doesn’t matter, though, how he’d have dealt with his feelings back then. What matters is how he’s dealing with them now and he’s doing pretty okay with it all, he thinks. He isn’t afraid of his feelings, not to the point to want to run away at least. He wants to tell Harry that, wants to tell him how he feels. He thinks about telling him, here in the doorway of his childhood bedroom. But now is not the time to confess his undying love. So he just tightens his hold on Harry’s hand instead and smiles when he glances at him.

Harry smiles back, albeit weakly, and pulls him further into the room. Louis notices the duffle bag carelessly thrown on the floor and their suits hung on the closet’s door. It explains why Harry didn’t save him when Gemma insisted to play him at Scrabble. He lost, got proper crushed even. Gemma was gloating, spent an hour or so rubbing his lack of vocabulary in his face. He’s mostly okay with it, though. For one, she taunted him with enough humour that he knew better than to take it too seriously. And well, he doesn’t need to lose a game of Scrabble to know he’s not very good with words. He came very close to failing his A-levels because of freaking English. And it’s not that he’s illiterate or anything, just that words don’t come easy to him.

He takes a minute to wonder how they’re both going to fit in a single bed that’s probably too small for the giant that is Harry. They’ll have to cuddle, hold each other close to not fall off the bed. They’ll have to sacrifice their personal space to keep each other safe. He must have smothered a lot of puppies in his previous life. It’s the only explanation to why he’s being tortured now. He’d offer flowers to his past self if he could. It’s the best way he knows to show his gratitude. He’s quite certain even Harry couldn’t resist the power of flowers. Then again, it is highly possible that Harry is a flower-child so he hardly is a good reference point.

He tries to glare at Harry when he’s hit in the face by his pyjama’s pants but finds it hard to even just pretend to be mad at him when he’s laughing so genuinely. He assesses the distance to the bathroom in his head, evaluates it at approximately too far for his lazy bum. And the door' s closed anyway so it's unlikely he'll give Harry's favourite women a show. Also, Harry's already more than half naked so Louis guesses he won't mind him following his lead. 

He's down to his boxers when Harry tackles him on the mattress, shifting around until he's sprawled on top of him. He's going to suffocate under the weight of his giant boyfriend. He can think of worse ways to go. And it'd make a good headline, funny. Harry would never forgive himself, though. He'd drown in his own guilt, keep all sources of happiness out of his life. Louis can't let that happen. Harry's meant to be the happiest goof of all times. 

"Get off me, you heavy shit." He laughs, curling both hands around Harry's shoulders to push him off. He goes easily, lies on his side to not fall off the bed. And he's still clinging to Louis, an arm wrapped around his middle and a leg thrown over his laps. He's dating a heavy giant octopus. He's quite okay with it, surprisingly. 

“I never realized just how much I missed this; being here with my family.” Harry says in the quiet of the room, lips tickling Louis’ skin as they move. He raises his head to look at Louis’ face, brings a hand up to cup his cheek. Louis can’t help the smile that creeps onto his features, not even when Harry covers his lips with his and whispers his next words against them. “Thank you for bringing me home.”  

“I love you.” Louis whispers in response. Harry pulls away, just stares at him with his mouth agape and eyebrows pulled together. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to throw it at you now. It’s just… it sort of hit me today when I saw you with your family but I was going to wait for a better moment to tell you. You don’t have to say anything back if you don’t want to...”

“You’re such an idiot.” Harry interrupts him, his whole body shaking with laughter. Louis frowns at him, feels a lump forming in his throat and tears prickling in his eyes. He pushes Harry’s off him with more force than before and straightens up, sitting on the edge of the bed. He takes in a couple of deep breaths to calm himself down, bites on the inside of his cheek to distract himself from the sudden assault of feelings. He’s looking for a way to make a quick escape when he feels Harry knee behind him, arms coming around his neck to keep him close. “Do you really think I’d have brought you here if I wasn’t stupidly in love with you?”

Louis turns his head just enough to watch Harry’s, sees the sincerity in his eyes and the honesty in his smile. Alright then, he really is an idiot. He angles his body to face Harry, make it easier and comfier to kiss him. Harry starts to laugh the second their lips touch, keeps laughing as Louis bites his bottom lip. He goes quiet when he drops a hand on his cock, though. He even gasps when he starts to grope him through his pyjamas bottoms.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hope the chapter was good enough to be worth the wait. 
> 
> Now that Louis has met Harry's family, I think it's about time Harry meets the most important person in Louis' life too. Don't you agree? ;)


	14. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, I did it again! I took forever to write that damn chapter! I think I took even longer than last time! I am absolutely sorry for that. 
> 
> See, I got this new job a few weeks back that is slowly draining me of all energy so when I'm actually home, I tend to sleep a lot, catch up with my TV shows & read (anyone's into The Maze Runner? I just finished it and damn it, that's a good story!).
> 
> As a consequence, I have decided to shorten the length of A Different Light. I read over my original plan & moved things around to cut out some unnecessary drama. So there's only two chapters left, including the one you're about to read, and an epilogue. Sad times.

There’s a book on Harry’s night-stand, a collection of quotes from famous people arranged by topics. Louis reads it sometimes, when there’s too much going on in his head and he can’t fall asleep. He got to the Family section last night, thought it was quite fitting when the reason of his insomnia was his family. The first couple of pages were just full of quotes hinting that one has to stay with his partner forever to be a good parent. He was about to throw the book at the wall in frustration when he came across a quote from F. Scott Fitzgerald that goes something like ‘ _Family quarrels are not like aches or wounds, they’re more like splits in the skin that won’t heal because there’s not enough material_.’ The words have been haunting him since he’s read them, running around his mind and leading him to question almost all of his decisions.

Like how he convinced Haley to see a counselor by selling it as a fast way to come to an agreement without tearing each other apart, for example. He might have used a different approach had he known they’d still be stuck three sessions in. And it’s not from a lack of effort or anything. They are trying their best, discussing all the options and presenting their arguments calmly. They just can’t reach a conclusion that satisfies them both. It’s frustrating, just short of discouraging. To be quite honest, Louis is on the verge of accepting Haley's latest proposition. She's just about as done as he is with the whole counseling thing. It's why she offered to give him two weekends every month and a say in important decisions concerning Emma. She will probably want to see a judge if he refuses. He won't get a better deal if they go to court.

"Your phone's buzzing." Harry mumbles, words muffled against the pillow. Louis blinks a couple of times to focus his attention on the half-naked man next to him rather than on all the dark thoughts running around his mind. He notices his phone blinking on the nightstand and leans over Harry to grasp for it, kissing his shoulder blade on his way. He doesn't bother looking at the screen before he hits the answer button, greeting the caller with a grunt. It's probably Zayn or Stan. 

"Louis, hey."  

Louis stiffens at the sound of Haley's voice, all quiet and weak. She hasn't called him since the day he left their house, barely texted him where and when to meet up when she allowed him to see Emma. He feels panic and dread starting to settle in his chest as he imagines all sorts of scenarios to explain her phone call. 

"Is something wrong with Emma?" He utters, the words burning his throat. He catches movement from the corner of his eyes, sees Harry sitting up against the headboard and staring at him with concern. 

"No, no. She's fine. Everything's fine." She rushes to reassure him. Louis relaxes immediately, slumps back against the mattress and smiles at his boyfriend to let him know it's alright. Harry smiles back, kisses his forehead and walks out of the room. He's so busy ogling his boyfriend's naked backside that he doesn't realize Haley's talking until she breathes out the last part of whatever she's saying. "So basically, do you have anything planned for the weekend?" 

"Nothing's set in stone." He replies warily, internally beating himself up for not listening to her. He knew she wasn't calling him just to chat about the weather. It's not in her character, for one, and their current situation doesn't involve mindless chit-chat. And It's not like he can ask her to repeat. 

"So you can take Emma then?" 

"Fuck, yes." He exclaims, and then he pinches himself to make sure he's not dreaming. It hurts more than a pinch should. So yeah, it's real. Haley's giving him an opportunity to spend an entire weekend with his daughter and she's doing it willingly. "I mean, of course, sure, yes." 

"Thank you, Louis. With my parents on their vacation, I don't know who else I could have turned to."

Louis closes his eyes, takes in a deep breath to remain as calm as possible. Haley should know that he'd have moved whatever plans he might have to be with Emma. She should know nothing will ever be half as important to him as his daughter. He should be first on the list of people she asks to babysit when she's out of town.

"She's my daughter too, Hals." He says softly, almost regrets it when he hears her take in a shaky breath. She needs to be reminded of it, though. She needs to be reminded that he has just as much right to be in their daughter's life as she does. It doesn't matter what they'll decide to do with the custody. He will always be here for Emma and Haley needs to remember that.

"I can drop her off around five?" Haley proposes after a couple of minutes of heavy silence. Louis blinks at the clock on the bedside table. It's just a few minutes past ten in the morning, which leaves him just enough time to turn his flat into a home.

"Sounds good, yeah." He agrees, grabbing a pair of underpants from the floor and slipping it on under the duvet. He’s baby-proofed every room in his flat already but he hasn’t really checked it afterward so he needs to do that. He also has to go to the shops, get some food to fill the cupboards in his kitchen. There’s so much to do in so little time.

“I’ll see you later then.”

“Yeah, later.” He mumbles distractedly, waits to hear the dial tone before he puts his phone down on the mattress. He just sits there for a minute and lets his sight blur as he processes everything. Emma is going to spend the next two days with him, with Harry too. Emma’s going to meet Harry. It’s finally going to happen.

“Is everything okay?” Harry asks from where he’s watching him, leaning against the doorway and looking like the son of two Greek gods. Louis feels the corner of his lips tug upside to form what could possibly be the biggest smile he’s ever had on his face. Everything’s okay, yeah. Everything’s more than okay. It’s highly possible that everything’s pretty close to perfect right now.

“She wanted to know if I could take Emma for the weekend.” Louis beams, getting on his feet to close the distance between them. He’s yet to touch Harry today and it doesn’t feel right, not when he’s so incredibly happy. He rests his arms on his shoulders, tangles his hands in the brown locks at the back of his head and pecks his lips. “Two days with my daughter and my boyfriend; couldn’t ask for a better way to spend my weekend.”

Louis goes to kiss him again but Harry takes a step back, revealing a frown deep enough to have his eyebrows knitting together. Louis is about to ask what’s wrong when he realizes that he already knows the answer. He hasn’t asked him if he wanted to spend the weekend with them, hasn’t even thought about asking him. He just assumed Harry was just as impatient to meet Emma as he was to introduce them to each other.

“I’ll understand if you want to be alone with your daughter, Lou.” Harry mumbles, his voice as warm as the hands resting on Louis’ hips but not as strong as the clutch he has on them. “I mean, you don’t get to spend a lot of time with her lately and I don’t want…”

“I want you there.” Louis cuts him off, brings a finger to Harry’s lips to stop him from interrupting. “I love you, Harry. I fully intend to love you for all the years I have left on this planet so you’re going to be an important part of my kid’s life and I can’t think of a good reason to wait any longer to bring you in. Can you?”

Louis may or may not be holding his breath while he waits for Harry to answer the question that could make or break their relationship. He’s not worried, not really. He knows Harry’s just as committed to their relationship as he is, possibly even more than that, so he won’t just freak out and run off now. But they never really talked about the future before, not seriously at least. And it’s possible that they don’t see it the same way.

“I’m sorry, Lou.” Harry sighs sadly and Louis feels his heart fall in the pit of his stomach. He nods slowly and takes a step back, only to be pulled back into Harry’s arms. “I don’t think I’ll stop loving you when we’ll live on the moon.”

Louis barks out laughing, hiding his face into the crook of Harry’s neck to muffle the sound.

 

Louis is reconsidering his life choices. He might have taken a different path if he had known the one leading to a life with Harry would also lead him to the cereals aisle of Sainsbury's. He doesn’t mind the cereals aisle, of course. He’s a big fan of cereals himself, loves them enough to want an entire cupboard full of cereals boxes. What he minds, however, is standing in an aisle for over ten minutes while his boyfriend reads the ingredients on every box of cereals aimed for kids to find the healthier brand. It’s nice of him to want the best for Emma, cute even, but it’s only cornflakes. She won’t get sick just because she’s eating coco puffs and not coco pops. And maybe he would have been more tolerant if Harry hadn’t spent just as much time on biscuits, yoghurts, soft drinks and even the damn milk. He knows what Harry’s doing, understands that he’s just trying to get everything right and perfect. And he appreciates it, really. He thinks it’s moving and all. But Harry is pushing it a little too far, honestly. He’s flirting with insanity.

“My God, you’re ridiculous!” Louis declares when Harry picks a fourth carton off the shelf. He grabs the box of Coco Pops still in his boyfriend’s hand, puts it in the cart and walks away. He’s going to have nightmares about the cereals aisle now, might never be able to walk through it again. He’s going to have to let Harry buy cereals on his own. He’s going to have to let Harry buy all of their groceries on his own actually because there’s no way he’s ever going to come to the shop with him again.

“What do you think Emma will like more, enchiladas or buns?” Harry asks when he catches up with Louis in the sweets and chocolate aisle. Louis stops his quest for the chocolate bars he knows Emma is mad about to stare at his boyfriend. “I want to cook something special for Emma’s first weekend with us, to like mark the day we finally got to take her home.”   

Louis’ heart skips a couple of beats at Harry’s use of plural first person pronouns. ‘We’, ‘Us’, ‘Ours’… it all sounds very nice coming out of his boyfriend’s mouth. He wants to hear him say these words for many more years, hopefully forever. He leans on his tiptoes to peck Harry’s lips, finger digging in his shoulder blades to keep himself up. 

“Anything home-cooked will be pretty special in her eyes, even your good old chicken pasta dish.” He assures with a small smile, leaning his upper body closer to Harry’s when he locks his hands over the small of his back. He doesn’t need to look around to know they’re being stared at, can feel the judgemental stares burning holes in the back of his head. He can’t find it in himself to care. He hasn’t cared in a fair while, actually. It’s easier to tolerate all the bad sides when he doesn’t have to hide the good sides. He’s come a long way, he realizes.

“What about homemade pizza?” Harry mumbles, effectively pulling Louis out of his thoughts. He has this glint in his eyes, the one that makes them look more blue than green, the one he only gets when he’s really excited about something.

“She’s going to make a big mess of the kitchen.” He warns pointedly. He’s not going to reject the idea, if only because he knows Emma’s going to love it. He just wants to make sure Harry knows what he’s getting into, even if he’s quite certain he babysat Ronnie enough times to know what to expect when giving free reign to a three year old.

“I suppose so, yeah.”

“I’m not cleaning it up.”

“Wasn’t expecting you to.”

Harry beams at him, both dimples out to distract him. And it works, always does. He’s too busy poking at the cute dents in his boyfriend’s cheeks to be offended by the dig at his inability to do his part of the chores. And he likes the mess anyway. It reminds him of the state of his mind.

“Alright, off to the vegetables then.” Harry grins, batting Louis’ hands off his face to get to their trolley. Louis watches him rush out of the aisle, hears him mumble about perfect tomatoes and olives and possibly sweet peppers too. He considers just leaving him to the grocery shopping to get on all the other things they still have to prepare but they really don’t have that much left, just finish unpacking a few things they brought to Louis’ flat this morning. It shouldn’t take them very long. Yeah, he’s going to stay a little bit longer.

He jogs to Harry’s side and loops their arms together, awkwardly smacking a kiss on his cheek as they walk to the vegetables aisle. Harry glows and pulls him closer, keeping him there with an arm around his shoulders. It’s quite difficult to walk with their bodies plastered together, Harry keeps bumping into people with the trolley. Louis doesn’t remember ever being the target of so many death glares in two minutes. But he doesn’t care. Harry’s radiating happiness next to him and it’s all that matters to him. Well, that and making sure Emma has a great time with them this weekend. He sort of really cares about that too.

 

Louis is watching Harry peel tomatoes when Haley knocks on the door of his brand new flat, feeling pretty restless as he munches on carrot sticks. He’s not a big fan of them, mind, but he’s trying to keep his stress-induced binge healthy. Okay, Harry’s forcing him to be healthy but he’s not fighting it for once. Anyway, Haley’s at the door with Emma and he’s frozen on his seat, eyes wide as he stares at Harry. He knows he’s just being ridiculous now, feeling all nervous when it’s not even the first time he’s watching after his own daughter. But it feels like the first time in some ways, sort of is too. It’s the first time he’ll watch after her in his flat, the first time he’ll watch after her with Harry. It’s the first time Harry and Emma will see each other, spend time with each other. Harry and Emma are about to meet. His boyfriend and his daughter are about to meet. They are just seconds away from meeting each other. For the first time. He’s not panicking. Really, he’s not. He has no reason to panic. Everything will be okay, perfect even. Emma is at an age where she loves pretty much everyone and Harry’s really good with kids. They are going to get along just fine. So Louis is not panicking. But it’s possible that he’s nervous, just a tad bit. And it’s legitimate, he thinks, because so much has changed since he last saw Emma without Haley’s supervision. He’s changed quite a lot since he left the house. But Emma knows that already. She’s pretty smart for her age and she’s seen him often enough to catch on the differences. He’s pulled out of his musings by a celery stick hitting him square in the face. He looks up to see Harry smirking and he really wants to kiss the smug look off his face. He’s about to do just that but is interrupted by a loud knock. Right, Haley’s at the door with Emma. He takes in a deep breath and pushes himself off the stool. He feels jittery, unsettled. He’s ridiculous, is what he is. He shakes his head, puts on a smile that feels a bit shaky but is mostly genuine and opens the door. He barely has time to kneel to Emma’s level before she’s throwing her tiny body into his arms, hands gripping the collar of his t-shirt and blonde hair flooding his mouth.

“Daddy, guess what!” Emma exclaims, wriggling out of the embrace but staying close enough to go a bit cross-eyed as she stares at him. He’s not doing much better but he’s not moving for the world.

“What is it, Bugs?” He asks warily, schooling his features into a frown even if he already knows what has her sounding so excited. There’s always a chance he’s got the wrong reason anyway. She could be happy about getting a new dress for her favourite doll or something.

“Mummy say I can stay with you all the weekend!” She shrieks happily, clapping her hands a little too close to his nose. He grabs her by the waist and pushes to his feet, spinning on the spot and drowning in her giggles. He loves the sound of her laughter, loves it more than anything in the world. He stops when he starts to feel dizzy, settles her on his hip with an arm under her bum to keep her from falling. “Mummy say I have a bedroom here too.”

“She wanted to bring her bed.” Haley justifies quickly and Louis sneaks a glance at her, the first since he opened the door. She looks tensed, her posture steeper than the sharpest cliff of the Grand Canyon. He hates what they’ve become, hates to feel like they’re strangers even after living together for all these years. They were never perfect together but they were always there for each other. They were friends. “I should probably go.”

“You want to come in?” Louis asks at the same time, making them both chuckle. It sounds nothing similar to the loud and lively laughs they had before he fucked it all up. But it’s a start, he thinks. Haley nods slowly, hesitantly. He smiles, tightens his hold on Emma and walks them to the living room. Maybe they’ll be able to get along again eventually, for Emma’s sake if nothing else.

Louis can tell the moment Haley spots Harry by the way she stiffens next to him and slows down to let him take the lead.

“Hi.” Harry greets shyly, moving around the kitchen island to get to them and bumping into the stool Louis forgot to push back when he went to open the door. He sends a look that he must intend to be murderous in Louis’ direction but he’s just too cute to pull it off. Emma’s giggling, the sound muffled as she buries her face in the crook of his father’s neck. Harry tilts his head to look at her, gaze and smile soft as he tries to catch her eyes. “I’m Harry, I’m a friend of your dad.”

“Boyfriend.” Louis rectifies, a small smile tugging at his lips when Harry turns big wide eyes in his direction. He knows Emma’s too young to fully understand what a boyfriend is but he doesn’t want to lie to her, not about that. He doesn’t want to lie to anyone about his relationship anymore, doesn’t want to pretend he’s not completely head over heels for the man. “Harry’s my boyfriend.”

Emma stares at Harry for what feels like an eternity, assessing him with all the judgement a three year old is capable of. Harry stands very still, lips pursed in a thin line and eyes unblinking. So he’s nervous then. Louis reaches out to twine their fingers together and squeezes in comfort, coaxing a smile from Harry.

“Hi, Harry.” Emma grins, revealing the little crinkles at the side of her eyes. “I am Emma, I am Daddy daughter.”

Harry barks out a laugh, the sound reverberating all around them. Haley follows his lead more timidly, chuckling into her hand. Louis just grins and kisses the top of Emma’s head. He finds it easier to breathe suddenly, like a heavy weight has been lifted off his shoulders and allowed his lungs to work properly again. Maybe everything will be alright in the end.

 

Harry invites Haley for tea, flashes his infamous dimpled grin and promises tasty homemade scones. Haley tries to decline politely, pretends she has to be at the train station in just a couple of hours and doesn’t trust public transportation to get her there on time. Harry, in all his kindness and naivety, offers to drive her if she agrees to stay. She never stood a chance against his stubbornness. Louis thinks he’s setting them up for disaster but Harry looks so pleased with himself, he just doesn’t have the heart to voice his fears. He takes the girls on a tour of the flat instead, while Harry heads back to the kitchen to put the last touches on his pastries, finishes it with Emma’s room. She runs in with a squeal that must have cost Louis a good half of his hearing, touches everything in sight and jumps on the canopy bed. He watches her with a smile on his face, feels a bit of relief when he notices Haley’s doing the same. He allows himself a moment to believe this weekend will help her realize that he can provide a good environment for Emma to grow up in. She can disapprove of his relationship with another man all she wants but it doesn’t take away the fact that he’s a good father.

Harry joins them, slides his arms around Louis’ waist and hooks his chin over his shoulder. Louis leans into the embrace, always does. He never thinks twice about it. It feels too right, too natural. But maybe he should have resisted his instincts for once because Haley’s standing next to them, eyes fixed on their twined hands resting on top of Louis’ stomach. He considers bolting out of Harry’s arms but it will only serve to make the situation more awkward. So he just waits, possibly forgets to breathe for a few seconds. She looks up, catches his eyes and smiles, kind and tentative. So she’s not completely disgusted by their display of affection then; that’s as good a start as any. He smiles back, although maybe a little too cautiously. Haley turns her gaze back on Emma, lips still tugged upwards. He lets out a relieved sigh that has Harry looking down at him with a frown. He wants to kiss the lines between his eyebrows but feels like it would be pushing his luck so he just shrugs instead. Harry accepts it without questions, kisses his temple and announces that there’s a fancy collation waiting for them in the kitchen. Haley laughs, the sound sudden and loud. She’s trying to apology but all she manages to mutter is ‘ _sorry_ ’ and ‘ _fancy collation’_. Louis gets it; he too took some time to get used to Harry’s way to word things. He squeezes Harry’s hands and moves out of his arms to pick up Emma.

Louis places Emma on the high chair next to his own stool and fastens the belt to avoid all risks of her toppling over. He’s surprised but grateful when she doesn’t try to wriggle out of the safety strap, so used to her playing the big girl card to get out of this kind of situation. Harry sets a plastic mug filled with hot chocolate and a buttered scone in front of her. She lights up at the sight, grabs the scones and takes a too big bite of it, crumbs flying out as she chews on it with her mouth open.

“She really is your daughter.” Harry laughs, moving out of the way when Louis leans over the counter to slap him on the arm. Haley snorts into her cup of tea, shrugs when Louis glares at her. He wishes they were sitting around a table so he could kick her under it.

Emma monopolizes most of Louis’ attention by filling him in on everything that happened at the day care centre since he last saw her. He listens to all her stories diligently, humming his agreement every time she looks at him with her big blue eyes. The small part of his attention he’s not dedicating to his daughter makes him aware of the fact that Harry and Haley are having a conversation of their own. He’s pretty sure they’re talking about him, probably making fun of him if the sound of their laughter echoing in his ears is any indication, but he can’t find it in himself to mind. He’d agree to be the butt of a hundred jokes if it meant the two of them would always get along this well.  

Louis helps Harry clear the kitchen island while Haley says goodbye to Emma, which just means he starts the dishwasher once his boyfriend’s done filling it with their plates and mugs. He hops on a stool, pulls Harry closer by tugging at his sleeve and kisses him, parts his legs to allow him to slot in between his thights. He keeps it chaste, just in case Emma comes barging into the room. There’s so much he wants to tell, wants to ask. He wants to know what he thinks of Haley, if he thinks she’s coming around or just putting on an act.

“I think she’s going to let you see Emma more.” Harry whispers against his lips, as if reading his mind. “It’s not… She hasn’t said anything, yeah? But I feel like… she seemed to be comfortable, you know? Around us, I mean.”

Louis hums his agreement and drops his head on Harry’s shoulder, smiling when he starts to stroke the back of his neck. So it wasn’t just wishful thinking then. Haley really did seem to be genuinely relaxed around them. It’s unexpected to say the least but really good, great even.

Harry kisses Louis’ temple and moves out of his hold after one last squeeze of his hips. Louis thinks he may be dating a psychic when Haley walks into the room a second later.

 

Louis ends up driving Haley to the train station. He’s not too sure why or how it happened. Harry had been ready to go, his car keys in one hand and Haley’s bag in the other. He’d been about to walk out the door when Haley had stopped him with a hand on his arm, told him something that Louis couldn’t hear from where he’d stood. Harry had nodded with a face-splitting grin, handed her bag back to Haley and walked to Louis, pushing the keys into his hand without explanation but promising to take good care of Emma in his absence.

Maybe there’s a problem with time-space continuum and he’s landed in some sort of alternate universe. He read about it once, how there could be different worlds inhabited with different version of people. So he may have woken up in a world where Haley is genuinely happy that he found Harry and isn’t trying to punish him by keeping Emma away from him. It would explain a lot of things, from her phone call this morning to her idea to leave Harry with Emma just now.

And yeah, okay, he realizes this theory is just ridiculous but it isn’t any stranger than the day he just had. And it makes more sense too, somehow, than just Haley waking up this morning and deciding to just let go of the grudge she’s holding against him.

“I think Emma’s too young to be moved around every week.” Haley announces without preamble. “I think a month would work better, give her time to settle for a bit and all that.”

Louis chokes on thin air, which causes the car to swerve just a tad bit on the opposite lane. He’s never been more thankful for the lack of cars in this street, not even when he uses it to avoid the city centre’s traffic. He can’t help but feel like he’s missing an important piece of the puzzle here, the piece that could help him make sense of Haley’s sudden change of heart. He doesn’t say anything, just turns at the junction to the drop-off area and stops the car by the station’s entrance. He has to ask. He has to know.

“Right, okay. I’m going to need you to explain to me how you went from not even wanting me to be alone with Emma for an extended period of time to suggesting she spends a month out of two over at my place because all I come up with is a dodgy theory on alternate universes and that’s definitely not even remotely rational enough to be a valid explanation.”

Haley nods slowly, staring at her hands clasped together on her laps. She doesn’t say anything for a long time, doesn’t make the faintest noise.

“I called my parents after you left, asked them to come and get Emma for the rest of the day.” She starts eventually, voice quiet and sad. “I just… I was such a mess when you broke up with me, like I was sad but probably not as much as I was mad. I was pissed at you for cheating on me and leaving me for Harry. I was angry with myself too, for not seeing it coming. And I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold it together and I didn’t want Emma to watch me crumble, you know?” She dares a glance in his direction and he nods, unsure of what else he could do right now. “I told them you’d broke it off with me, explained that you fell in love with a bloke and left me for him. I might have used some chosen expletives to describe the way I felt about you and my mum… she suggested I could ask for full custody of Emma then, argues that it’d be no good for her to be raised by a liar and a cheater. I was so, so angry at you... So I went along with it just to hurt you.”  

Louis laughs humourlessly, can’t help it. Of course it was her mother’s idea in the first place. He had an inkling she was no stranger to Haley’s strong reaction to their break-up. The woman has always been rather hostile to him, accusing him of having ruined her daughter’s life every chance she got. He’s pretty sure she has a voodoo doll of him somewhere and sticks pins in its limbs every day in the hope to hurt him even just a little bit.

“I stopped being angry, eventually. I’m still upset and it’s possible that I still hate you a little bit. I mean, you did cheat on me and that’s not easy to forgive. But I should never have used Emma as a way to hurt you. I realize that now, just like I realize that I’ve hurt her too. And that’s not… I never wanted to hurt her and I…”

“I should have been honest with you.” Louis concedes, tries to relieve her from an ounce of the guilt she’s feeling even if he believes she sort of doesn’t deserve it. “I should have told you about Harry as soon as I realized what was going on, maybe things wouldn’t have gone so messy if I had manned up and talked to you.”

“Why didn’t you?” Haley asks softly, timidly. “I mean, like, you were always so… It’s not like you to go behind people’s back, you know?”

Louis knows what she means to say, knows she doesn’t understand how he could choose to cheat on her after witnessing firsthand the damages an infidelity could cause to a family. He doesn’t understand either, doesn’t know why he lets himself follow into his father’s steps when he loathes the man so much.

“I was scared you’d take Emma away from me if you knew I was gay.”

He could laugh at the irony, really. He lied about his sexuality by fear of losing his daughter but the lies are why Haley almost took her away from him.

“It’s not… I never even thought… That’s not why I fought with you, Louis. Please, if nothing else, believe me on that.”

Louis just stares at her for a moment, a light frown etched on his features as he studies hers. He knows all of her telltale signs, all of the unconscious twitches accompanying a lie. And he can’t see any right now. There’s no creases between her eyebrows, no lines next to her lips. She’s looking at him, too, her eyes focused on his. And she did just agree to share custody of their daughter even though he’s still in a relationship with a man so there’s that.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” He smiles. “I believe you.”

 

Emma’s unmistakable laughter reaches Louis’ ears even before he steps into his flat, bright and happy. And it mixes with Harry’s own obnoxious cackles. The sound warms Louis’ heart, possibly makes it expand somehow. He never thought he could feel so much love at once. He follows the sound all the way to the living room where he catches sight of his daughter sprawled on the couch, trying to squirm out of Harry’s way as he tickles her. Louis can’t help the smile that draws itself on his lips. They haven’t noticed him yet, apparently too engrossed in their game to be aware of their surroundings, so he leans against the doorframe and just watches them for a moment. He may have thought Emma would need more time to warm up to Harry but he’s always known they’d get along just fine. He’s never been happier to be right about something. They’re both panting between fits of laughter and Harry starts to slow his attacks, withdraws an inch to give Emma space to catch her breath.

“Harold, dear, are you molesting my child?” Louis asks with a smirk on his lips and crinkles around his eyes. Harry glances over his shoulder and gets up, walks over to his boyfriend and pecks his lips quickly, dimples in full display as he grins. “Those dimples won’t work on me, Styles.”

“Be not angry, Daddy.” Emma pipes in, stumbling over to them and attaching herself to her father’s leg, looking up at him with big round eyes. “I wanted to make Harry a pretty princess but I hurt his hair too much.”

Louis can’t stop a frown from making its way on his features as he looks at Harry again. And that’s when he notices the painful-looking knots in Harry’s hair. They most definitely were not there when he left to drive Haley to the train station. He has to bite the inside of his cheek to not laugh at the idea of Emma twisting and pulling on his boyfriend’s hair until he just couldn’t take it anymore. The mental image is burned into his brain now. He bursts out laughing anyway.   

 “Why you laugh, Daddy?” Emma frowns, eyes darting between Louis and Harry. Louis tries to calm himself down by taking in a few deep breaths, in through the nose and out through the mouth. He avoids looking at Harry, knowing the state of his impossible mane would send him into fits of laughter again.

“I think Daddy’s jealous.” Harry quips, picking Emma up and balancing her on his hip. Emma goes easily, wraps her arms around his shoulders. The sight warms Louis’ heart. “He wishes I let him braid my hair.”  

Louis rolls his eyes, a smile threatening to break his face. He takes his daughter from his boyfriend’s arms gently, fighting to keep a straight face when she pouts and tightens her hold on Harry. She lets go eventually, comes into Louis’ awaiting arms and nuzzles her face in the crook of his neck. Louis uses the hand that’s not supporting his daughter to ruffle his boyfriend’s hair playfully, finally allowing a grin to tug at the corner of his lips.

“Go brush your hair, Rapunzel.”

Harry sticks his tongue out at him and Louis wants nothing more than to catch it, suck on it, just tease Harry until he’s begging him to just do something already. And he’d comply, probably. Harry’s smirking like he knows exactly what’s on Louis mind. And maybe he does know. He has this strange capacity to read him like an open book or something. It’s scary sometimes. He rolls his eyes, shoves Harry in direction of the bathroom and makes his way over to the couch. He’ll never get tired of carrying his child around but she’s getting a bit heavy for him.

Emma moves to sit more comfortably on his laps and brings both hands up to his cheeks, cupping his face to make sure he’s focused on her. He doesn’t need the touch to centre his attention on her but her fingers are warm on his skin so he’s not going to complain.

“Hi, Bugs.”

“Hi, Daddy.” She beams, all teeth on display. “Harry said we can make pizza with everything we want on it and watch Tangled tonight. Rapunzel is his favourite princess after Mulan but Mulan isn’t really a princess so really, Rapunzel is his favourite princess.” She says in one breath, waits for him to nod his agreement before adding. “I like him. He is really pretty and nice and funny.”

“It’s a pretty accurate description of him, yeah.” Louis chuckles. “Emma, do you understand what it means when I say Harry’s my boyfriend?”

Emma nods, her smile widening at the prospect of sharing her knowledge with her father.

“You love him very much and he loves you very much and you sleep in a bed with him and you kiss him sometimes.”

“Do you think it’s weird that I have a boyfriend and not a girlfriend like other daddies?”

“I like Harry, Daddy.” She repeats, the tone of her voice insistent and final. Louis is hit with relief as he realizes that it really is as simple as that to her, that she doesn’t care much about the gender of the person he’s dating. And he knows she will grow up and learn that it matters to the rest of the world, knows that she may very well change her mind, but he has time to worry about it. “I want to go in the big wheel.” She says, changing the subject before he can react. “Mary talk about the big wheel all the time so I want to go in the big wheel and talk about it all the time too.”

“Guess we’ll go on the big wheel then.”

 

Louis plays with Emma while Harry prepares the dough for their pizza. She introduces him to David and James, a young couple that has just moved in the house next to Barbie and Ken’s. They love Shelby and are thinking about having kids themselves, apparently. They don’t seem to know men can’t get pregnant, or that babies don’t actually fall off the sky when two adults decide that they love each other very much. Louis is in no hurry to explain the birds and the bees to his daughter so he just goes along with it when a plush toy drop a tiny bundle next to David and exclaims ‘Here’s your baby! Treat it well!”

Harry calls them in the kitchen when he’s done, a multitude of condiments and three small pizzas lined up on the island. Emma decides that she wants a bit of everything on her pizza, even things she doesn’t usually like, so Harry helps her pick a tasty assortment instead. Louis takes advantage of his boyfriend being distracted to prepare the third pizza to his own taste, which results in a silly food fight between Harry and Louis. They make a big mess of the kitchen but Emma’s laughing hard enough that there are tears in her eyes so Louis isn’t too bothered that it’s going to take them forever to clean it all up. It’s worth it, he thinks.  

They eat on the couch, watching Tangled as promised. Louis learns that Harry knows all of the songs and likes to sing along to them. Emma sings with him even though she doesn’t know half the words, re-enacts some of the scenes she knows by heart. She gets Louis to join in on ‘ _I See The Light’_ because it’s a love song and he loves Harry so he should sing it to him, apparently. He kneels between Harry’s legs and serenades him with Flynn’s words. He can’t remember the last time he laughs so much.

They watch Frozen next even though it’s past Emma’s bedtime already. Neither Louis nor Harry can resist her puppy eyes, it seems. They’re both strangely okay with it. Harry doesn’t sing along or re-enact scene ridiculously this time, just watches the movie in silence. Emma falls asleep halfway through, head resting on Louis’ laps and feet tugged under Harry’s thighs. Louis watches her more than he watches the TV screen. He missed this, missed her. He carries her to bed after Anna threw herself in between Hans and Elsa, giving Harry some privacy to cry over just how perfect sibling love is.

 

Louis makes good on his threat to not help Harry clean the kitchen if he decided to let Emma make her own pizza and chooses to wait for him in bed rather than to watch him. He’d feel bad for letting Harry take care of the mess they both made somewhat equally if it weren’t for how he totally warned him back when they were at the shops and again when they got back home and even a third time when Harry started throwing corn at him. So yeah, he’s feeling no guilt here. He picks up his book and doesn’t think about Harry scrubbing barbecue sauce off the kitchen’s island. He better get used to it anyway, for when they will officially live together, because Louis isn’t planning to be the one tidying the apartment or washing clothes. Harry will have to do all the cooking too, obviously, if he doesn’t want their place to get accidentally set on fire. Louis can take out the rubbish and put the dishes in the dishwasher, he’s okay with that. It sounds like a pretty good repartition of the chores. He’ll have to remember it.

Louis has been reading for the better part of an hour when Harry finally joins him, freshly showered, wet hair dripping water on his already damp skin and only wearing a towel around his waist. Louis’ eyes follow a droplet trailing down his body, from his collarbone to his stomach and disappearing down his happy trail. He wants to chase it with his tongue. And there’s nothing stopping him from doing just that so he’s going to do it, just as soon as Harry step closer to the bed.

“So, reckon the night was a success?” Harry grins, all teeth and dimples. Louis would compare him to a five year old if it weren’t for his super fit body and how he wants to ravish it super hard. 

“It was alright, I guess.” Louis shrugs, cursing his voice for ruining his attempt at nonchalance. It was a pretty great evening, to say the truth. Emma loved every minute of it and Harry knows it just as well as Louis does.

“Do you think Emma likes me then?” Harry asks, putting on joggers that are most probably Louis' judging by how short they look on him. Louis takes a second to wonder why his boyfriend is getting dressed. He's a pretty big fan of their nightly naked cuddles. He's not completely sure he'll get to fall asleep without them. So he's about to tell Harry to just drop the pyjamas when he sees the way he's worrying his lower lip between his teeth. Right, he asked a question and expects an answer.  

“I think she loves you, rather.”

Louis doesn't even have to think about it. It's pretty obvious his daughter's smitten with his boyfriend. He fears she might be developing a crush on him even, which could lead to all sorts of awkward situation. Harry sighs, relief written all over his face.

“I’m quite fond of her, too.” Harry says after he's flopped down on the mattress, tugging his hand under his head as he stares at the ceiling. Louis watches him, takes in every details. He doesn't know how he got lucky enough to find this amazing human being but he intends to spend every day trying to be worthy of him.

“Haley’s going to sign the papers for joint-custody.” Louis reveals after a minute of staring. He's been wanting to tell him the news since he found him tickling Emma earlier but he hasn't gotten him the chance until now. "And she wants to make it a monthly arrangement rather than weekly."

"What? That's awesome, Lou!" Harry beams, eyes gleaming with happiness. He moves closer to Louis, leans on his forearm to lift his upper body off the mattress to take a proper look at Louis' face and brings his hand up to cup his jaw. "I'm so happy for you, baby." 

 

Louis is pretty sure he’s glowing right now, radiating happiness. He’s got what he asked for, joint-custody of his daughter. He’s even got something he didn’t know he wanted, an amazingly supportive boyfriend. Life’s pretty good, almost perfect. He laces his fingers with Harry’s on his cheek and kisses him. Their lips fit together so perfectly; he’ll never get over it. He wants to know what else about them fit perfectly.

“So,” Louis breathes against Harry’s lips, blue eyes catching green eyes. “will you finally fuck me now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to write some smut there, as a peace offering for taking like 4 months to update, but I didn't really feel it. I don't think they're going to have sex anyway, what with Emma sleeping in the room next door and it being her first night in the new flat and stuff like that... 
> 
> I'm going to try and bring you the last chapter before the end of the month but no promise made before I'm working double time during the holidays so I'm not sure to have time to sit & write. 
> 
> By the way, Emma's reaction to her father having a boyfriend rather than a girlfriend like other dads as well as her definition of a boyfriend are inspired by an actual 3 year old. It's not important to know that fact but... yeah.


	15. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my, would you look at that! An update!
> 
> Thank you to each and every one of you who read, gave kudos, bookmarked or commented on A Different Light. It means a very much lot to me ;)
> 
> Once again, I'm really, really sorry for taking this long to post a new chapter. When I think I've started writing ADL a little over a year ago, convinced that I could finish it in six months... 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy that last chapter. I'll post the epilogue after the weekend.

Louis wakes to an empty bed and the sound of the shower running, way too early for his liking. It has become a regrettable habit of his over the summer. It’s not Harry’s fault, the poor boy is doing his best to not disturb Louis’ sleep when he gets ready for work. He has his clothes folded in the bathroom the night before, tiptoes around the apartment… he doesn’t even make tea because he fears the kettle might be too loud. It’s quite ridiculous, really. And also immensely useless, obviously, since Louis still wakes up at the crack of dawn every morning. It’s just that he’s not used to sleeping next to an empty spot anymore. He and Harry have been sharing a bed every night since they’ve made their relationship official, like their mattresses have imprints of both their bodies by now. So it feels all sorts of unnatural to him when he shifts about in bed and doesn’t bump into his boyfriend, unnatural enough to wake him up with a jolt. He doesn’t panic, not exactly. He’s not scared Harry will just up and leave him, not after everything they went through. But he’s still a bit unsettled when all he finds to cuddle is a cold pillow. He holds it close to his chest and inhales deeply, the sweet scent of Harry invading his senses. Love, it seems, has turned him into a huge weirdo.

He waits until he can’t hear the water anymore to give up on the idea of going back to sleep for a couple of hours, drags his body out of bed and to the kitchen instead. He’s still half asleep, his brain not nearly functioning enough to do much more than prepare their teas. It doesn’t require thinking, is all automatic by now.  He could do it in his sleep, probably did once or twice. He turns on the kettle, gets two mugs from the cupboard and retrieves the milk from the fridge. He puts a teabag in each mug, pours hot water in them and goes to prepare his bowl of cereals.

He’s just about to add milk to their teas when Harry joins him in the kitchen, embracing him from behind and kissing the side of his head. Louis didn’t realize just how cold he was until he was all wrapped up into his boyfriend’s arms. He leans into him, tries to steal as much warmth as possible while he can. He should be over all these little things, he thinks, the tender moments and overly domestic stuff. They’ve been together long enough now that he should be over it, surely. But he’s not. And he doesn’t think he’ll ever be.

“We should get a kitten or something.” Harry interrupts Louis’ train of thoughts, letting go of him to grab his mug instead. “To keep the bed warm when I have to leave early.”

“Or you could ask Emily to give you normal working hours.” 

“I already am working normal hours.” Harry frowns, brows knitting together in that stupidly cute way of his. Louis wants to have lazy, sleepy sex with him right now. “Right, I should get going. There’s this new recipe I want to try today, like a special treat for Em’s first day of school.”

“Nursery school.” Louis clarifies and jumps on the kitchen’s island, picking up his bowl of cereal once he’s comfortable. He refuses to acknowledge that his baby girl is grown-up enough to be going to school yet. He’s just got her home from the hospital like a few days ago, definitely not over three years ago. “It’s just nursery school. No big deal.”

That’s a lie, such a lie. His daughter’s first day of nursery school is a big deal. It’s a very big deal for Emma at the very least. She’s so excited about it, about going to the “big kids’ school” as she calls it. It’s all she’s been talking about the last few weeks. She’s had her outfit picked and backpack ready for at least a week. Today is a very special day to her so it’s special to Louis and Haley, too. And to Harry, it seems, which isn’t as surprising as it should be, probably.  

“You’re going to cry, aren’t you?” Harry teases, smirking around his cup of tea. Louis doesn’t answer, just huffs his indignation. Truth is, he’s probably going to tear up a little. His baby’s growing up way too fast, he’s allowed to cry about that. Harry steps in between his legs and presses a sweet kiss to the tip of his nose. “I love you, my little marshmallow.”  

“Get out of my face, you twat!” Louis laughs, using the hand that’s not holding the bowl to push him away. Harry pecks his lips one last time, steals his untouched mug of tea and disappears from sight.

 

Louis wakes up with a crick in his neck and a painful back, reckons he must have fallen asleep watching cartoons again. It might have become a bad habit of his, too. He’s probably going to have to convince Harry to get a new couch if it keeps happening, a more comfortable and less smelly couch. He understands this one has some sort of sentimental value, as does absolutely everything in the flat because Harry’s weird like that but Louis wouldn’t change him for all the gold in the world. Or maybe he’ll get him to put a TV in the bedroom; that could work too. It’d be more comfortable to cuddle on movie nights, too. And it’d also be more practical whenever cuddle time turn into sexy time, which happens to be pretty much every time. He’s going to need a list of arguments, both pros and cons. It will have to wait, though, because he really has to get ready to head out for breakfast with his daughter and ex-girlfriend at his boyfriend’s workplace. He might be living the weirdest life ever. At least they’re all getting along now, saves a lot of awkwardness. He doesn’t know what he’d have done if Haley hadn’t changed her mind and let him be an important part of Emma’s life. He’d probably still be fighting her over it, making everyone involved in this mess miserable and unable to see the end of the tunnel. But he has no reason to wonder about it now, shouldn’t be thinking about it at all. Everything fell into place and turned out alright; it’s all that really matters in the end.

He sees Haley sitting at their usual table near the window, eyes cast on the street. She’s alone, no sign of Emma anywhere in the room. He almost panics for a short moments, almost lets his fears take over his common sense. He takes a couple of deep breaths, reminds himself that they signed the custody agreement more than two months ago and that everything has gone quite smoothly since. They’ve found their footings now, drawn required lines and set necessary boundaries. It’s fine. They’re fine. She’s not going to rip everything away from him. He waits for his heart rate to return to normal and crosses the room to sit in the booth with Haley, greeting her with a smile.

“I think Harry kidnapped Emma.” Haley announces, genuine grin on her lips. She has grown quite fond of Harry over the summer; no doubt she’d let him get away with an actual kidnapping. She’d probably help him, too. “He just took her and carried her to the kitchen.”

“He’s probably going to exploit her, get her to decorate cupcakes without ever letting her have one. He’s awful like that, I’m telling you.”

Haley chuckles and Louis smiles. It’s nice to hear her laugh again, to be the reason why she’s laughing. They’re not exactly friends yet, probably will never be friends again to say the truth, but they’re comfortable with each other now. It has to be good enough, sort of really is. 

“Daddy!” Emma woops, hand clutched in Harry’s as they walk out of the kitchen. She lets go of him to leap into Louis’ arms, kneeling him in the balls as she tries to get comfortable on his laps. He winces and glares at Harry who snorts beside him. “Guess what today is, Daddy!”

“Your birthday!”

“My birthday is July.”

“Right. Mine is in December so it’s not that either.” Louis mutters, scratching his chin as he pretends to think about it. He makes a show of looking at Haley and Harry, biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling when they start miming writing and reading. “You made me a card, wrote me a poem? Is it Father Day?”

Emma glares at the three adults, brows furrowed and lips tightly pursed. It takes Louis all his self-control to not laugh. Haley and Harry aren’t doing much better, the dimples evident on Harry’s cheek as he fights against a smile.

“My first day of school, Daddy!” Emma cries, sounding as outraged as she looks, as if her father forgetting about her first day of school is the worst thing he could have done. And it probably is to her. Louis caves, gives in to the grin that tugs at the corner of his lips. “Why you are smiling? It is not funny!”

“I’m just riling you up, Bugs.” Louis assures, kissing her forehead. He feels her relax instantly, her features softening into a happy smile that makes her eyes crinkle. “Are you super duper excited?”

“Mummy says I bounce off the walls.”

Louis glances at Haley who nods her confirmation, fake exasperation on her face. He’s a little jealous of her, jealous that she got to wake up Emma and help her get ready for school. But he’s not complaining. He has no right to. They have an agreement, a good one at that. He’s lucky Haley agreed to meet up with him in the first place and suggested to walk Emma to school together. He’s thankful.

“Harry baked a chocolate and strawberry just for me.” Emma announces proudly, grinning at Harry who ruffles her hair. They’re real terrors together, make Louis’ head spin. He’s grateful for that too. “Chocolate and strawberry is my favourite.”

“It’s my favourite too, you know?” Haley says, softly insistent. “Daddy and Harry quite likes it too, I think.”

Emma watches them for a moment, probably hoping they’ll object so she won’t have to give them a piece of her cake. They don’t say anything, just stares at her expectantly. She sighs, dramatically loudly may he add.

“Alright, I guess I can share my cake with you.”

 

Louis doesn’t cry when they have to leave Emma in the capable hands of her new teach. It’s possible that his eyes are a little wet, though, but Haley’s are too so it’s mostly okay. He’s always been aware of the significance of a kid’s first day of school, has always knows it’s an important milestone, almost as much as the first time a baby smiles on purpose or manage to walk without help. It’s a rite of passage, the first step towards independence. From the moment they start going to school, they start building their own life, by evolving and socializing in circles that have nothing to do with their parents. They’re learning to be their own person rather than the reflection of what their parents want. Louis refuses to have a mental breakdown over his baby girl growing up. It would be a whole new level of ridiculous and not just because it’s inevitable but also because it is a good thing. The world would be a whole different kind of place if kids never claimed their independence. 

He needs to take his mind off things, keep himself busy. He could go back to the café, sit in a corner and watch people mill around but he’d probably get bored within minutes. And it wouldn’t take his mind off anything, really. He could call Zayn, convince him to get his lazy arse out of bed and hang out at the square near his place. It’s a beautiful day, rare enough to be enjoyed fully. He’s willing to bet his next paycheck that Zayn hasn’t seen the outside world in quite some time so it will do him good. It will do them both good, really.

“So how are you going to fill your morning?” Haley asks as they walk out of the school’s ground. Louis wonders if he should have made plans earlier, if he should have known that he’d need a distraction. He just didn’t think it’d hit him so hard.

“Go home and cry over Emma’s baby pictures, probably.” He jokes because that’s what he does when he’s overwhelmed with emotions he doesn’t want to have. It’s his defence mechanism or whatever.

“All the albums are at the house, though.”

And yeah, Louis never thought about that. He never thought about all the things he left behind when he moved out of the house he’d shared with the girls, like the box of all the objects she picked up or made with her hands, all the drawings she did for him. He never thought of the photographs he may never be able to look at again, photographs of Emma as a baby and of them as a family. It feels like small details, not significant enough to be thought about during a painfully complicated split, but it’s really not just that. It’s memories. It’s important.

“But I can bring them over tonight.” Haley interrupts his thoughts, voice hesitant and quiet. “And you can make copies or something.”

“That’d be great, yeah. Thanks.”

“They’re yours as much as they’re mine.”

Haley makes it sounds so simple that Louis can only smile. He never thought things between them could ever feel easy again, never thought things could ever feel easy for him again. He messed up too much last year, hurt too many people in the process. And he doesn’t know what he did to deserve all of this, for things to fall into place and work out for the best, but he’s not going to waste this second chance.

 

He doesn’t call Zayn to let him know he’s coming over, knows there’s no point in even just trying to call him. He’s probably sleeping right now because he doesn’t have classes yet and he’s the kind of guy who sleeps the morning away whenever he can get away with it, which is probably why he always puts his phone on flight mode at night, so there’s little chance an early rise will wake him up. Well, unless they have the code to get in the building, which is, fortunately, Louis’ case. He has never used it before, never needed to, and is a little reluctant to use it now. He’s not entirely positive Zayn won’t punch him in the face and purposefully stub his toes with the door on the way to close it. The guy’s very serious about his sleep. There’s no way to predict his reaction if it’s disturbed. But it’s been weeks since they hung out, last time being an outside lunch with Emma during which they didn’t get a chance to talk properly, so a get-together is probably overdue.

He takes his time walking to Zayn’s flat, hoping he’ll at least avoid the punch if he shows up after ten. He fires a quick text at Harry on the way, to let him know Haley is bringing Chinese take-outs for dinner tonight because she, and everyone with common sense, is scared of his healthy dishes. It’s probably not the reason why she offered to get food, is more likely to do with the fact that she’s stayed for dinner a fair lot the last few months and feels the need to participate in some ways, but Louis will never tire of calling Harry out on his crazy diet. He doesn’t really mind it, honestly. As it turns out he quite likes freshly cooked vegetables, so does Emma, surprisingly enough. He just has a lot of fun teasing Harry about his housewife’s side. Harry answers with a line of crying emojis followed by the poop one, making Louis cackle in the middle of the street. It’s not even funny.  

He arrives at destination faster than he anticipated. He hesitates, ponders going for a walk around the square to let Zayn sleep a bit longer. He’s made it this far already, might as well go all the way. He types in the code to open the door and climbs up the stairs to the fourth floor, silently cursing Zayn for not moving in a building with a lift. He takes a minute to catch his breath before making his way to Zayn’s door, knocking on it for a good five minutes before his best friend finally swings it open. He’s glaring, looking as pissed as he can manage after just waking up seconds ago. Louis smirks.

“Good morning, Zaynie!”

“I hate you.” Zayn groans but there’s no heat behind the words. He steps aside to let Louis in, kicks the door closed and drops face-first on the couch. Louis settles on a beanbag, wriggling about until he finds some sort of balance. “What do you want anyway?”

“Can’t a guy come to see his best mate without an hidden agenda?”

“A regular guy, maybe. You, absolutely not.”

“I’m deeply wounded.” Louis deadpans with a hand on his chest. Zayn stares at him, obviously unimpressed. “I’m just here to hang out, honestly, that’s all I want. It’s been a while, yeah?”

Zayn keeps staring at him, as if trying to decide how honest his answer is. And he probably deserves it. He’s had many occasions to show up unannounced and request some bonding time with his best friend the last few months but he didn’t take them, choosing to spend more time with his boyfriend instead. He’s sort of a shit friend, he realizes. And it’s not the first time he thinks it, not the first time he promises himself to do better from then on but never goes through with it because of whatever’s happening in his life. He’s an egoistical prick, probably. He wonders if it’s a thing he can change about him.

“And whose fault is that?” Zayn mumbles, not looking at Louis as he delivers a metaphorical punch that might have hurt almost as bad as a good old hook.  But Louis deserves it, probably. 

“Right, I have to take a leak.” Louis mumbles and dashes to the bathroom faster than a shooting star across the sky. He locks the door and leans against it, staring at his reflection in the mirror above the sink.

He knows he hasn’t been the best of friends lately. He’s been too preoccupied with his own problems to listen to his friends’, too focused on trying to fit Emma and Haley in this new life he’s got with Harry to make time for Zayn and Stan. He is painfully aware of how shit he’s been at maintaining friendships in the midst of this messy situation. So he’s not thrown off by Zayn’s remark, not really. He sort of expected him to give him shit about it, to be quite honest, especially since he’d promised to be a better friend just a handful of days before casting him aside ago. So he knows he deserves every snippy comments his best friend will throw his way in the next few days but he also knows they will hit him just as hard as if he wasn’t waiting for them. He’s just going to suck it up, apology and promise to not take their friendship for granted ever again. And he’s going to keep his word this time. He’s probably going to have to repeat the process with Stan at some point.

He walks to the sink to splash some water on his face, hoping it will help him get it together. He pauses when he notices the toothbrush on the shelf, bright purple and glittery. Zayn might not be the manliest man in his entourage, not with all the time he spends in the bathroom, but he’s definitely not unbothered enough to own a glittery toothbrush. He might not qualify for the “most present best friend” award but he’s pretty sure he was present enough to be told about the sudden appearance of a second toothbrush on the bathroom’s shelf. And yet Zayn never even mentioned seeing someone. Looks like he’ll have to beg for forgiveness. But first, he has to satisfy his curiosity. It’s possible that his priorities are fucked but that’s nothing new, really.

“Okay, here’s what’s going to happen now,” Louis announces as he joins Zayn in the living room, sitting on the beanbag again. “I’m going to apologize to you for being a shit friend and it’s going to be the most genuine apology you have ever heard from me. But first, you’re going to explain to me why there’s a toothbrush in your bathroom.”

“Well, I didn’t know how to tell you but…” Zayn pauses, probably for effect or just to be a little shit. “I’m brushing my teeth on a daily basis.”

Right, being a little shit it is then. He’s not doing too badly either. Louis is proud. He’s not going to let Zayn know that, though.

“Oh, kid’s got jokes!” Louis smirks. “Is it a new personality trait?”

“Had to entertain myself in your absence.”

“So that’s why you’ve got yourself a girlfriend then, entertainment?”

The words are barely out of his mouth when he realizes how wrong they sound. And if the look on Zayn’s face is anything to go by, he agrees with the thought. He should make it clear that it was intended as a joke, maybe.

“I really am sorry, you know? I’m sorry I left you out of the chaos that’s my life lately and I’m sorry I haven’t tried to keep up with what’s happened to you in the last few months.” Louis says, surprises even himself with how much he actually means it. He looks down at his fidgety hands to continue. “I just… I got caught up, I guess, in trying to salvage my friendship with Haley and to keep my place in Emma’s life and to help Harry fit in this family I’ve built somehow… And I, like, forgot that’s not everything’s my life’s about, you know? They’re probably the most important parts of my world, yeah, but they’re not my entire world.”

Louis looks up to see Zayn staring at him; all narrowed eyes and pursed lips. He can’t decide if that means Zayn’s considering forgiving him or throwing him out. He wouldn’t put it past himself to have fucked up this honest apology somehow. He might be getting better at the whole opening up and sharing what’s going on in his head thing but he’s not totally there yet.

“I’m not mad at you, never was.” Zayn admits. “You had so much shit going on, like dealing with your sexuality crisis and fighting to keep your rights as a father… I wasn’t expecting to be on your list of priorities. To be honest, I thought I’d see a lot less of you.”

“So you just let me make a fool of myself for shit and giggles?”

Zayn just shrugs, smirk on his lips. Louis would be outraged, would make a scene and vow to wipe the smugness off his best friend’s face, but he’s too relieved to care. Maybe later. And he’s more concerned about all that new knowledge he’s missing, really. It’s about time he catches up on it. There’s just one thing he needs to know first.

“If you’re not mad at me, then why didn’t you tell me about the toothbrush’s owner?”

“As I said, you had so much shit going on.”

Right, it makes sense for Zayn to think he’s been sparing him by withholding this information about his life but Louis could have done with the distraction. He’d have welcomed it with open arms. He is, after all, responsible for his friend’s fear of commitment so to know he’s finally overcome it would have been pleasant.

“Well, everything seems to be sorted now…” Louis informs with a grin and moves from the beanbag to the floor to get into a more comfortable position. “So tell me all about the smart lady who tamed Zayn Malik.”

Zayn seems to hesitate for a second, staring at Louis from his spot on the couch. Louis doesn’t blame him. He doesn’t have the best track record when it comes to not teasing his friends about everything they dare tell him. And let’s be real here, what Zayn is about to tell him is certainly filled with stuff Louis will get to use against him.

“Remember that girl I met at an art show back in January?”

Louis does remember, alright. He couldn’t forget even if he wanted to, not with the way Zayn’s eyes light up every time he so much as mentions the girl’s name. He also remembers them having a teeny tiny quarrel the last time Louis teased Zayn about dating her. Things have changed since that night, obviously. He nods.

“Well, she just showed up with the damn toothbrush a couple of months ago and it’s been there since.”

Louis can tell Zayn’s minimizing the importance of it, possibly minimizing the nature of his relationship too. He’s not going to press the matter. Zayn will tell him more when he’ll be ready or something. He could convince Harry to send Zayn an invitation for dinner some time and make it clear that his girlfriend’s welcome too. Harry has a gift when it comes to getting people to tell stories they don’t want to share.

“Only you can get into a relationship by accident.” Louis laughs.

 

Louis and Zayn spend the morning catching up on what happened in both their lives over the last eight months or so, from the small trivialities to the important details. They laugh enough that their stomachs hurt and their eyes water. Louis didn’t realize just how much he’d missed this until he had it back. He invites Zayn over for dinner on Saturday and tells him to bring Amy. He threatens to involve Harry, claiming he’s even better than him when it comes to convince reluctant people to give in. It’s a lie. Harry’s too nice and considerate to insist when people show hesitancy. But Zayn doesn’t know that because Zayn doesn’t know Harry, not really. That’s another thing Louis intends to fix. And he’ll start on Saturday, with a delicious dinner cooked by Harry as the cherry on top of the cake.

He stops by the café on his way to pick up Emma. He just wants to warn Harry about the dinner invitation he issued in both their names, that’s all. He finds him in the kitchen, crouched down to put a bash of cookies in the oven. And really, he can’t be blamed for taking a moment to admire the view. Harry straightens up and turns around before he has time to snap his eyes off.

“See something you like?” Harry smirks, eyebrows raised in what he must think is a suggestive way. Louis just shrugs and approaches him, stretching his neck to give him a peck on the lips. There are arms sneaking around his waist, fingers locking together at the small of his back. “What are you doing here?”

“I invited Zayn and his girlfriend over for dinner.”

“Zayn has a girlfriend?”

“And we’re meeting her on Saturday.” Louis adds, watching Harry’s face closely to make sure he’s really okay with it. He’s learned that Harry rarely says no to the people he loves but the last thing he wants is for his boyfriend to go along with things just to please him. He doesn’t think that would make for a healthy relationship. He doesn’t see any of his telltale signs, no eye twitching or smile faltering, but he does look like he’s working something out in his mind. Louis squeezes his hips to call him back to him. “Are you okay with me inviting them?”

“Yeah, it’s fine, don’t worry.” Harry smiles. “Just ask me first next time, yeah?”

“Promise.” Louis agrees with a solemn nod before leaning up to kiss him again, lingering a bit longer this time. “Come get Emma with me?” He murmurs against his lips. Harry withdraws just enough to look at the clock above the door.

“My lunch break doesn’t start for another half hour.”

“Just go with him.” Emily says, startling Louis who jostles away from Harry. He doesn’t know how long she’s been standing there since he didn’t hear her coming in but he hopes she didn’t see them kissing. They kissed in front of her before, many times, but he feels like awkward when it happens, like his mother has just walked in on him giving head to his boyfriend or something.

“You don’t mind?” Harry asks, genuinely worried about the possibility. Louis sees Emily roll her eyes as she makes a shooing motion with her hand. Harry grins as he unknots his apron. “Thank you. I will…”

Louis grabs his hand and drags him out of the kitchen, smiling when he hears Emily laugh behind them.

 

Louis does his best to ignore the looks some of the parents are sending their way, holding tighter onto Harry’s hand as he bites his tongue to not comment on their rudeness. He might be getting used to being the target of scowls and frowns but he’s still not okay with it. And he will never be okay with it because it will never be okay for people to look at him or Harry or anyone else like that. Harry squeezes his hand to call for his attention and he looks up to see him smiling. He can’t resist, gets on his tiptoes and pecks his lips just when the gate opens.

Emma runs out of the classroom and attaches herself to Louis’ legs, consequently being scolded at by her teacher. She mumbles a half-hearted apology and a quick goodbye before slipping her hand into Louis’ to signal that she’s ready to go. He thanks the teacher and leads her outside. Harry is sitting on a bench with Sarah, Ronnie wriggling on his laps as she talks animatedly. Emma squeals loudly and lets go of his hand, running to Harry’s side as fast as her little legs allow her to. Louis watches as Harry moves Ronnie onto one of his thigh and helps Emma climb on the other one, making appropriate faces as the two girls talk his ear off. He can’t stop the thought that Harry will make a great father someday from taking residence in his brain. He wants that. He wants to adopt kids with Harry.  

“Daddy!” Emma calls, effectively drawing his attention back to the present. He joins them at the bench, lifting Emma off Harry’s lap and setting her on his hip instead. “We can go to McDonald’s with Ronnie?”

Louis doesn’t have to look at Harry to know there’s hope shining in his eyes. He has so much love for Ronnie and Sarah, always talks about getting together with them more often. He wouldn’t be very surprised if Emma’s sudden idea of having lunch with her new best friend actually came from his boyfriend. Either way, he can’t say no to something that will make the two people he loves most ecstatic.

“I guess I could go for some chicken nuggets.”  

 

Lunch goes without an itch, for the most part. The girls gobble down their food and run off to the climbing frame, using their newly acquired toys to play fight each other on the way there. Harry has to go back to work soon after, leaving a pouting Louis alone with Sarah. She’s a great girl, sweet and kind, but she doesn’t talk much, to Louis that is. She has no problem communicating with Harry. Louis doesn’t blame her. They don’t have much in common, just daughters around the same age and a lot of love for Harry. Louis is aware that the latter combined with the fact that they’re going to see a lot of each other from now on should be reason enough to try harder but he’s also aware that they can’t force a friendship just for Harry’s sake. They can fake it, though. So he engages Sarah in mindless chitchat. They share embarrassing stories about Harry and their daughters’ craziest experiments. They smile and laugh a fair bit. And Louis thinks it could be a case of “fake it until you make it”, maybe.

Emma goes down easily when Louis’ puts her to bed for a nap, exhausted by all excitement of the morning. Louis could do with a nap himself, feels completely drained of energy right now. But he promised Harry he’d clean up the flat and he should probably do the dishes, too. They’re going to need plates to put their food in, surely. And it will make Harry happy, if just to see Louis actually did his part of the chores for once. He should make it an argument to convince Harry to move in with him already, promise to do his part on a regular basis if they actually live together. He’s going to start taking better care of his place anyway. He sort of has to, really, if he wants to be a good example for his daughter. He can’t always wait for someone else to do his dirty work. And he’s quite certain Harry won’t let him get away with doing nothing for much longer because equality is the secret of a healthy relationship. Or something. Louis can’t remember Harry’s exact words at the moment.

Louis is dozing off on the couch when Harry gets home, his flat pristine after two hours of sweeping and mopping. He feels like he should saunter over to the door and greet him with a peck on the lips, like all housewives on TV do. But he’s too beat to even just move his little finger right now. He’d make a poor televised housewife. Househusband. Whatever. He’d do a pitiful job, is the point. He leans his head against the back of the couch to watch Harry look around the flat, a grin creeping on his face as he takes in his boyfriend’s content expression. He’d be willing to instate daily tidying to see that look all the time. But it’d probably wear off if he cleaned the place up enough times for him to get used to it. Well, never mind then. Harry stumbles closer, cups his face with both hands and leans down to kiss him. He teases his lips apart with the tip of his tongue but doesn’t deepen the kiss, the angle too wrong for a proper snog to be enjoyable. He remembers wishing to be kissed Spiderman-like when he was younger. It looked super hot in the movie, almost as hot as Seth and Summer’s re-enacting it in The OC. It’s really not that hot in reality, just very awkward.

“Emma’s still asleep?” Harry asks, pulling away from the kiss. And that just won’t do. Louis wants him back. He’ll learn to love Spiderman kisses if he has to, won’t be such a hardship to be honest. He just really wants his boyfriend’s lips back on his. He might just need to pout, though. Harry can’t resist his pout. “I’ll jump in the shower quickly and make tea after, yeah?”

Harry’s voice comes from somewhere not right behind him, too far behind him. Louis opens his eyes in time to see Harry walking out of the kitchen, his shirt already half-opened and hanging off his shoulders. He’s lucky to be able to call this man his boyfriend, very damn lucky.

“Give me a kiss and I’ll make tea.” He offers with a smirk, relishing the sound of Harry’s laughter. He loves the sound. He loves the man. He loves life. Life is good. Life is lovely. And so are kisses, as chaste and quick as they are. 

 

Emma wakes up just in time to share the box of scones Harry brought back from the bakery. Louis thinks she may have a six sense or something, allowing her to know when food is being served. She devours two buttery scones, literally stuffing her mouth with them. She reminds him a little of Niall when she does that. It scares him, really does.

Harry goes for a nap after tea, as he often does after a long day at work. And he still manages to sleep at night. Louis doesn’t know how he’s not fucking up his sleep schedule, seriously. He’s unable to sleep in the late hours of the afternoon, can’t even close his eyes for ten minutes without risking a sleepless night. It isn’t fair, really.

He sits Emma in front of an episode of Dora The Explorer while he cleans up the kitchen, can’t fight the smile that splits his face in two as he listens to her scream at the animated girl and her monkey pet. He’s always amused and endeared by her reactions to Dora, no matter how stupid he thinks the program is. He turns the TV off when he’s done in the kitchen and agrees to play with Emma in compensation.

They’ve built a small Lego Town for Emma’s Polly Pockets to live in by the time Haley arrives, hands full with bags of Chinese food and lips curled in a genuine smile. Louis barely has time to invite her him that Emma’s already clinging to her legs and telling her all about her day, talking fast enough that she’s probably breaking the record for most words uttered in a minute. Louis takes the food and leaves them to it. He sets the table on the kitchen island. He really ought to buy a table before next month. He can’t just keep using Harry’s headscarves to secure Emma on a barstool; it’s neither safe nor comfortable for her. He’s surprised Haley hasn’t brought it up yet. For all they’ve stopped fighting, she still finds a lot of things to criticise. But he doesn’t hold it against her. He often makes a few remarks of his own. He’ll mention a trip to IKEA during dinner, to let her know that he’s aware the current arrangement of his kitchen isn’t without flaws.

Haley managed to move to the living room while he was setting the table and is now sitting on the couch, Emma on her laps to recount every details of the day. Haley glances in his direction, a mix of fondness and pain in her eyes. He can sympathize. He’s had to listen to Emma’s tales three times already. It can get overwhelming at times. He flashes a small smile to show his empathy and goes to wake up Harry. He finds him with his body splayed out across the bed, his pretty face burrowed in Louis’ pillow. It seems to be his default position when he’s alone in the bed, which is funny considering it’s also Louis’ default position when he’s alone in bed. He wonders how they manage to share a bed sometimes. He sits next to Harry, careful to not jostle him too much as his weight makes the mattress dip. He pushes strands of hair off his forehead, kisses him there before moving to his eyebrows, the tip of his nose and finally his lips. He waits until he can feel Harry smile into the kiss and pulls away slowly. Harry stretches his neck to capture Louis’ lips in another kiss. Louis indulges him, always does.

Emma makes most of the conversation during dinner, only stopping her tirades long enough to swallow her food and take some necessary breaths. She gestures as she talks, knocks over her cutlery more than once and spews bits of food. But none of the adults at the table looks willing to call her out on it, not when she looks so happy telling them about them teacher. She’s still very much agitated by the time they’re done with the food, which leads to Harry offering to read her a story before dessert in the hope that it will calm her down a little. Louis watches them disappear into Emma’s bedroom with a smile that he supposes to be fond. He wipes it off with a shake of his head when he notices Haley staring at him.

“I think Emma’s a little in love with Harry.” 

Louis recognizes a conversation’s starter when he hears one. He’s a little wary, not sure he’s going to like what’s probably coming next. But he’s not going to let her know that. He’s not going to show any sort of weakness.

“Can’t blame her, can I?” He smirks, gathering the empty plates to bring them to the sink. He’s all domestic now, even clearing the table without being threatened or bribed into it. Okay, he’s just trying to escape Haley but he’s doing chores on his own decision so that’s hardly the point. It doesn’t work anyway. She follows him, boxes of leftovers in hands. He takes them with a muttered thanks and puts them in the fridge, stalling.

“He’s a great guy, really good with Emma.” Haley says tentatively when he turns around. “I wasn’t sure I could ever like him and trust him, like I didn’t know if I could ever get past the fact that you cheated on me with him, no matter how nice he was to our daughter and to me…”

Louis opens his mouth to interrupt, feeling the need to defend Harry. He’s not the jerk in this story. But Haley shakes her head, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. He closes his mouth and waits for her to continue.

“But Emma looks at him like he hung the moon and stars just for her, you know? She’s just so fond of him…”

“It’s mutual, they’ve discussed it.” Louis chirps, grinning at the floor.

“I trust him with her.” Haley admits quietly. Louis already knows, though. Or he had an inkling that she did, since she hasn’t objected to Harry babysitting Emma on afternoons neither of them can get out of work on time to pick her up from school. She even joked about it when they agreed, saying she could rest assured that their daughter wouldn’t starve to death while Harry’s around. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that you’ve lucked out with him and you have my stamp of approval, even if you don’t need or want it.”

Louis blinks at her, trying to make sense of what just happened. In all honesty, he’s never expected Haley to truly get over what he did. He’s never hoped for her forgiveness. And she’s right. He doesn’t need her to approve of Harry but it feels nice to have it. He pulls her into a tight hug before he can really think about it. He will blame it on temporary insanity if he’s ever called out on it.

“I’m happy for you, Louis.”


	16. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it ends...
> 
> I can't believe I'm finally ticking the "completed" box, after 14 months of ups and downs. It's surreal. And a little heartbreaking, too. I'm going to miss these characters, this universe. But I left them in a good place, I think, so it's okay.
> 
> I'd like to thank everyone who has read A Different Light in its entirety, whether you were there from the beginning or jumped in at some later point or read it once it was already finished... It means a lot to me that you read all 100,000 words. I don't know if I'd have been such a dedicated reader had I not been the writer, ahah. 
> 
> If you gave kudos, bookmarked or/and commented, thank you very much. I owe you a cookie or something, probably. I'm very grateful. Special mentions to Bookbee, Koolshelby, EchoedCreativity and DanielleElizza who have been here from pretty much the start and never failed to make me smile with comments :)
> 
> A last special thanks has to go to Kerry, even though she stopped Beta'ing the chapters halfway through she never let me give up on this story. You should probably thank her, too. It's her fault if A Different Light has an ending :)
> 
> Head to the end notes for a parting gift ;)

The flat’s completely empty now, devoid of everything that has ever made it feel like home. The walls have been stripped bare, to rooms have been cleared of all their furniture. Louis is sitting in the middle of what used to be the living room, where the couch was just hours ago, and feels oddly emotional at the sight. There are two years worth of memories and stories in that place, moments he’s afraid to forget once he won’t have all the reminders held in between these walls.

There are the pencilled lines on Emma’s bedroom walls from the time she and Ronnie decided to imitate Zayn’s art, the splinters on the kitchen’s tile from when he broke half of his appliance trying to cook a romantic dinner for Harry, the specks of blood he never managed to remove from the bathroom’s sink from when Emma sliced her finger helping Harry cut vegetables. There’s the bump on his bedroom’s door from when he accidentally banged his elbow against it while Harry sucked him off very eagerly and the wine stains on the carpet from when he knocked over the coffee table in his haste to fuck Harry.

He loves the new house, doesn’t regret buying it. And he knows it will feel like home once they’ll have unpacked everything and started living there properly. It already feels like a little like home, to be honest. He bought it with Harry, is going to live in it with Harry. And it’s perfect for them. But it will never witness any of the moments this flat did.

Like the week Harry casually mentioned Emily needing him to move out of the flat to extend the café every day, until Louis couldn’t take it anymore and told him to just move in with him already. Truth be told, he had been planning to ask him anyway but was waiting for the perfect occasion. Emily retired a couple of months after the café reopened, leaving it to Harry and Jade.

The day Emma called Harry _Papa_ for the first time, bringing happy tears to his eyes. Emma had freaked out when she’d noticed Harry crying, thought she’d done something wrong and started crying too. Harry had hold in his next sob long enough to tell her that he was crying happy tears because he loved her so much, loved her like she was his own daughter. Louis had shed a few tears of his own and made sweet love to his boyfriend that night.

The night Harry proposed and made him cry with his stupidly endearing speech about love at first sight and fate. He’d come home to find Harry waiting for him in the living room, surrounded by candles and soft music. He’d opened the box in his hand to reveal a cake iced with the words _“Marry me, please?”_ and Louis had laugh so hard it’d brought tears to his eyes. And then he’d started talking, telling him about how he’d noticed him weeks before they actually talked and how he was convinced even then that they’d end up together, how he’d never stopped believing it in spite of all the bullshit because there’s a legend about people being some sort of two pieces puzzle and he’d known the first time he’d laid eyes on him that they’d fit perfectly together, that he was the second piece to his puzzle. Louis had laughed and cried and shoved him and kissed him.  

But the new house will become their home and it will hold so many memories, a lifetime of stories will be written on these walls. There will be their first night as a married couple and their first fight as a married couple and their first night of make-up sex as a married couple. There will be the first time they’ll bring their baby home and all the sleepless nights after that, their first words, first steps. There will be Emma’s first boyfriend coming over for a proper introduction to her fathers, which could lead to the first time they’ll have to hide a dead body. There will be good moments and bad moments and in-between moments. And he can’t wait for them all.

Louis hears more than he sees Harry walk into the room, his steps echoing in the emptiness surrounding them. He looks up to see his fiancé standing next to him, a soft smile on his lips and a hand held out. Louis’ eyes fall onto the silver band on his finger and he pictures the white gold ring he’s going to slid in its place in just about two weeks, the one identical to his own in all aspects except the words engraved inside of it. Yeah, he can’t wait.

He takes Harry’s hands and lets himself be pulled up, chuckling when he crashes against his chest. He laces their fingers together, leans onto his tiptoes and kisses him. He feels Harry smiles against his lips and he wants to linger, wants to make love to him on this floor and have him make love to him on the kitchen’s island, to bid farewell to the place. But they don’t have time. Niall, Liam and Zayn are waiting for them outside, probably arguing over whose music they’re going to play in the moving van. Niall will win. He always wins. No one can resist him. He pulls away and squeezes Harry’s hand, smiling wider than ever before.

“Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the reason why I took longer to write the last couple of chapters (other than life, work and shit like that) is because I've started working on another story. It's still in the early stages, like researching and outlining, so it's going to be a little while till I start posting it but I'm giving you the summary anyway. 
> 
> Near Life Experience  
> If Louis had to guess, he'd say it all started on that rainy day back in September. It might have been weeks before they had their first proper conversation, weeks before they even introduced themselves, but it definitely was the day he'd started falling for Harry. 
> 
> Here you go...
> 
> So see you soon, hopefully :)

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [Tumblr](mustbe-themusic.tumblr.com) if you want, I'll welcome questions, requests, praises, con-crits, mindless chats... everything, really.


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